#but also. he has a silly crush on her at the same time
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Because of being such slow and clumsy typer Hunter would write text drawfts before hand(in notepad so he d copy and paste), speculating how the conversation would go.
Also beside sending flapjack pics he d for sure infodump her about plants (after a while) (she d infodump back + send pics of clover and her plants)
//they both are such lovable dorks pls i need s3 not to make it into any kind of big love story but teenagers crushing/in love pleasee
He initially typed Like That (h.EELlo) because he was rushing himself to get the texts out. He worried that if he took too long, she'd lose interest in the conversation. But eventually he gets more accustomed with the keypad and only makes typos as often as the average teen. And when he's Not talking with Willow, he likes scrolling through their chat log. Makes him smile. However he cringes an awful lot because he used to be really REALLY bad at typing.
Once he's realized that she's not gonna ghost him if he doesn't answer her immediately he's comfortable enough to take some time to draft what he's gonna say. He even weighs the pros and cons of specific terminology. He's like "should I use this word? It's a big word. Shows her I'm smart and I know big words. Or maybe it'll come across as pretentious. Should I use the word pretentious? It's also a big word and it shows I'm smart but--"
But once they get in The Zone (i.e. a common interest in the usage of plants in magic.) he stops worrying about structuring his texts so much cuz he just gets carried away with all the yammering. She's also yammering. He likes that. Makes him feel less annoying. And he likes to read what she has to say. She's really smart.
(I admire people who have standards and actual wishlists for what they want for Hunter and Willow's relationship in season 3 but listen to me. Listen very carefully. I am starved for them to just have a single goddamn interaction. Hunter called Willow by her name in King's Tide and it was barely audible and it sustained me for weeks. I will take whatever the fuck this show chooses to give me. They could go all the fuck out with fireworks. They could never acknowledge Hunter's crush ever again. Just so long as they INTERACTION. I am starving, for the love of God.)
#i dont entirely understand what the definition of a big love story is#and how it differs from teenagers having dorky crushes#considering lumity IS the former but like. they are the silliest most awkward disasters ever#so im pretty sure the crew is gonna remain accurate to how teens clumsily navigate romance#but also also#gotta keep in mind#hunter loves willow so much. platonically#like he loves her and gus to pieces#so what they have is like. a very deep and very strong platonic bond#but also. he has a silly crush on her at the same time#this might kinda blur the lines on how their relationship unfolds#they could have a poignant scene or two that demonstrates just how much they care about each other#but would hunter's feelings existing automatically make these scenes inheritently romantic#idk idk. i have very tangled feelings about this relationship#and how it kinda interweavea between platonic and romantic and neither are lesser factors than the other#i dont know how to articulate this properly so im just rambling#cannot grasp at the point im trying to make#this might be unrelated to the point i started with. anyway#huntlow
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Fools - T.N
in which the only Hufflepuff friend in the group of slytherins develops a crush on Theodore Nott— something only fools do.
fem!hufflepuff reader, bff Pansy, use of euphemisms and teasing yn for being innocent but sfw, reader is very emotional, jealous theo, 2800 words
"Y/n!!"
After a year, you'd think that people would get used to seeing the same Hufflepuff go over to the Slytherin table, but alas, half the Great Hall turned to watch you approach the table and take a seat next to Pansy.
She sticks her middle finger up behind your back, aiming it at all of the people who are still staring, and they quickly turn away. It was an unlikely friendship, but she was not going to let anyone make you feel bad about it.
"About time you get here," Draco huffs, "I've had to hear Pansy's 'girl talk' while you were sleeping."
You smile sheepishly at him, you had taken your sweet time this morning, hitting snooze a few times before listening to your favorite record and doing more singing than actually getting ready— resulting in you being extra late to breakfast.
"Sorry, Draco."
"Don't apologize yn, he doesn't deserve it."
You can hear the teasing lilt in Theo's voice from across the table, and Draco throws a handful of grapes at him.
"Whatever," Pansy turns her back to them, "did you hear, apparently the Hufflepuff chaser has a crush on you."
Your eyes flit between her face and your hands, and you wonder where she got her information from.
The boys around you seem to perk up at this, and Draco chides Pansy for deeming that piece of information unimportant compared to all her other, much more useless, girl talk this morning.
"Where on Earth did you hear that?" You cut in, not enjoying the way everyone is suddenly interested in your (nonexistent) love life.
"From a very trustworthy source," is all she'll give away, and you cringe.
"Can we change subjects, please?"
Theo narrows his eyes at you, as if he's searching your face for something.
"You don't care about it then? You're not jumping at the chance to ride his broom?"
The Slytherins around you snicker at his euphemism, but you go bright red.
"I- what! Why would you say- no!"
This only makes them laugh harder, but Pansy collects herself enough to place a reassuring hand on your arm.
"Don't worry, we all know our little puff would never."
You slap her hand away, upset at them treating you like a child.
"Well if you guys are only gonna tease me, I'm gonna go back to my own table."
"Y/n, we didn't mean-" Theo starts, but he's still got a smirk on his face, so you ignore him, leaving before he can try and stop you.
You take a seat at your own house table, and the Hufflepuffs around you immediately welcome you into their conversation.
You don't know why it bothered you so much. They were right, you weren't going to be "riding someone's broom" anytime soon, but hearing the way they talked about it— like you were just some silly, innocent baby— really bugged you.
If you were being honest with yourself, you also knew that deep down you've been repressing feelings for Theodore, because you knew enough stories about him to know it would never work. He was a heartthrob, and had no issue finding girls to entertain him at night— to him you were just a little girl. That conversation was just more proof. There's no way he'd be interested in you.
You unintentionally make eye contact with Zacharias Smith when you finally get out of your head, but you immediately look away, turning back to your friends just as Hannah asks about your Christmas plans.
You don't see your Slytherin friends again until Charms class, and Pansy immediately brings up what happened at breakfast.
"Hey, I'm sorry about that. I don't want you to feel bad, that's just how we are."
You give her a tight lipped smile, shrugging your shoulders. You've realized that most of the anger came from the realization that Theo probably saw you as a child, not actually their teasing.
"No biggie, it's forgiven."
She eyes you suspiciously but decides not to question it, instead starting to talk about her next party idea until she gets shushed when Professor Flitwick starts explaining directions.
You use the quiet moment to sneak a look at Theo, who's leaned back in his chair smirking at something Draco said next to him.
Pansy turns to you and you quickly shift your focus, but it appears she's already seen you. She gives you a raised eyebrow, and you play dumb, looking back at the teapot on your desk and trying to give it legs.
"What was that about back there?" Pansy asks as the two of you walk out together.
"I know it took me forever to get those stupid legs," you cringe, hoping to throw her off course.
"No I meant your staring."
You try not to look guilty, just shrugging your shoulders and explaining, "figured the boys might have figured it out faster. Should have known better."
She grins at that, muttering "you really should have." But something tells you she doesn't quite believe your story.
Your thoughts are only confirmed the next day when she invites you over to her dorm and then immediately suggests the two of you take veritaserum to play a game of truth or dare.
You let out a sigh.
"I'm not doing that Pans, just ask me whatever you want to know."
She grins, "you know me so well."
"Unfortunately," you tease, and she slaps your arm but asks her question anyway.
"Do you have a crush on Draco?"
Her face drops into confusion when you start laughing hysterically.
"That's what you thought? Merlin, you had me scared for no reason. No Pans, I absolutely do not have a crush on Draco."
She lets out a small sigh of relief, but you can tell she's a little peeved you laughed at her.
"Well what was I supposed to think? You got all grumpy yesterday when we were teasing you about your love life, and then the staring. It was either that or you're secretly in love with Nott, which, lets be for real."
She leaves it at that, but your cheeks flush pink. Be for real what? Be for real, he'd never want you? Be for real, what universe would the two of you work out? Be for real, he hates you?
The thoughts keep coming one after another, and suddenly your vision is blurred.
"Hey, woah, what's wrong?"
You cursed Pansy for being so observant.
"Nothing, I think my allergies are acting up." You say, but there's sadness in your voice, and there's an inch of snow outside, which isn't exactly pollen friendly.
"Don't lie to me y/n."
"I'm sorry for being so stupid and emotional." You cry, and Pansy rubs your back slowly.
"Hey, there's nothing wrong with being emotional! You don't see us do it much, but a lot of that's got to do with how we were raised. I wish I felt things as deeply as you do."
Your tears seem to slow, and she smiles.
"Now as for stupid, that depends on where that fit came from."
You look up at her in embarrassment, more hot tears threatening to fill your eyes.
"I... what did you mean?" You ask instead.
"Huh?"
"When you said be for real about me secretly being.." you couldn't bring yourself to say it, as if saying the words would make it true and something you could no longer push away and pretend wasn't there.
Realization dawns on Pansy's face, and she immediately wraps you up in a hug.
"Oh yn, it all makes sense now."
You continue to cry, and she looks at you with what you assume is pity in her eyes.
"I know, I'm such a fool! I know it would never happen, I know half of Hogwarts has a crush on him, I know he'd never want a girl like me." All of the things you'd been keeping to yourself and secretly thinking come spilling out of your mouth, and Pansy rubs your back while you continue to cry.
"Hey don't talk like that! Theo doesn't care about those people, and I know he cares about you. Not to mention, "a girl like you"? You're the exact type of girl that Theo needs. He practically never smiles the way he does when you're around. Just calm down okay?"
You nod through your cries, finally settling down as Pansy throws a magazine at you and the two of you lay across her bed.
Unknowingly, you end up falling asleep, tired from the amount of crying you did. Pansy notices but decides not to wake you, heading down to the common room where the guys would be getting back from quidditch practice soon.
When you wake up the room is dark, and a quick looks around reminds you you're in Pansy's room and not your own. You check the bathroom attached to the dorm, and when no one is in there you head down to the common room, assuming that's where she's gone to.
The whole group is sat on leather couches and armchairs when you make it down the stairs, and you rub the sleep out of your eyes as you approach the group.
"There's our assonnata bella," Theodore purrs, and you immediately flush even though you only understand half of his phrase. (sleeping beauty)
"Sorry for falling asleep." You apologize as you take the seat Pansy offered you, coincidentally landing between her and the reason for your crying.
"Stop apologizing so much," Theo whispers in your ear, and you refuse to look at him in fear of him seeing exactly the effect he has on you. Instead you continue to look at Pansy.
"No biggie, you needed it after that." She says, and you nod.
"After what? What happened?" Draco asked, ever the nosy weasel.
Pansy looked at you, obviously waiting for you to answer so she could go along with whatever you say.
You consider lying, but figure there's no point. They all know you're an emotional person, no one would find it unusual.
"I- uh- cried a little bit. Tired me out."
The boys (that you can see) all nod their heads in understanding and decide to switch topics, finally letting you relax.
However, since you'd turned your back to Theo, that now meant when you leaned back to get comfy you leaned directly into his chest, as he had one arm on the back of the couch behind you.
"Oh I'm so sorry!" You whisper, shooting back up and speaking only to him in an attempt to not draw attention from the others.
"Don't be silly," he says back, pulling your shoulders so you're back in the relaxed position against him, "you're welcome in my arms any day ragazza dolce." (Sweet girl)
You flush red again, but this time you do look up at him, a teasing glint in your eyes.
"You know I have absolutely no idea what you're saying, right?"
He grins, "that's part of the fun."
"Whatever," you turn back away from him to look at the group, your head resting right over his heart, "as long as you're not calling me a troll."
"I promise I'm not." He says, ruffling your hair before the both of you rejoin the main conversation.
"Zacharias Smith was at our practice today," Draco tells Pansy, and she looks at him in surprise.
"Really? Maybe he was looking for yn. She does sometimes keep me company in the stands."
"Oh he definitely was." Blaise smirks, and you feel Theo tense behind you. "Walked right up to Theo and asked where the pretty little one we're always hanging out with was."
"What?" Pansy shrieks, looking over, although you're unsure if the intentional target was you or the boy behind you. Her eyes momentarily widen at seeing your position before she notices something and smirks.
"Theo," she drawls, "I didn't notice those cuts on your knuckles earlier, is that new?"
Everyone turns to look at Theo, and you sit up in alarm, turning to look at his hand that's laying behind your spot on the couch.
"Theo! What happened? Why didn't you go get this checked out?"
He averts his eyes from your gaze. "Just wasn't thinking about it," he shrugs.
You frown. "How could you not be thinking about it, that looks painful!"
He shrugs again, grimacing when you grab his hand, insisting he let you heal it.
"Just let me go get my wand okay? I left it in Pansy's room."
You get up to leave, and with your back turned you don't see Pansy whisper to Theo and then him get up and follow you.
"I'll just come with." He announces, following you back to your friends room.
You try not to think about the intimacy of being alone with Theo while you tend to his wounds, trying once again to shove all your feelings down far in your heart.
Thankfully none of Pansy's roommates had come back, and Theo sits on her bed while you grab your wand from her nightstand before standing in between his spread legs.
"Give me your hand."
He complies, and you try not to blush at the warmth of his, much bigger, hand resting on your own.
"This is nasty Theo, did you punch a wall or something?" You ask, beginning to heal a few of the cuts. Luckily most of them were clean from where he'd washed them when he showered after practice, but they were scabbed over and his knuckles were blue with beginning to form bruises.
He lets out an amused huff of laughter and you stop your ministrations, looking up at him immediately.
"Tell me you didn't actually punch a wall."
He shrugs, "it was either that or Smith, and I know you don't like when I get into fights."
You feel yourself heat up. He didn't hit someone because of your preference, and the person just happened to be the guy who supposedly has a crush on you.
"Well I'm glad you didn't send my housemate to the hospital wing at least, although I wish you wouldn't have hurt yourself," you sigh, continuing to heal his hands.
Out of nowhere he pulls it away.
"Theo?"
"Look, I-" he cards a hand through his hair, contemplating his next words. "I didn't like it that Smith came looking for you. Especially that he asked me."
You look at him in confusion, "what? Why?"
He looks distraught, but he can't help the crooked smile that etches itself on his face.
"You're damn oblivious, you know that?"
You continue to look at him, no thoughts behind your eyes.
"Uh, I mean I guess? I've been told that a few times, though I'm not sure how it's pertinent to this situation."
Suddenly Theo's hands are on your cheeks, and his face is inches from your own.
"What- what are you doing?"
"I want to kiss you." He states plainly, as if it's the most normal thing in the world— as if the five words didn't have you spiraling out of control.
"Wait- do you want to kiss me because you think I'm like pretty or do you want to kiss me because you like me?"
You'd never even thought he would consider you pretty, but at his words you had to rethink a lot of things you thought you knew.
"I like you, amorina." (Little love)
"Really?" You know you should be celebrating, but you can't help the doubt that creeps into your mind. "You don't think I'm a silly, innocent, little Hufflepuff?"
He grins, "you can be my silly little Hufflepuff. And no I don't care that you're not jumping at the opportunity to go broom hopping."
You can't help but laugh a his phrasing, but you're glad he knew what you meant.
"I like you, amorina, I don't care about anything else, as long as I get you."
You smile, and Theo swears he could die happy if it's the last thing he sees.
"Well in that case, I want you to kiss me too."
He can barely hold back his own smile as he places his lips on yours, cradling your jaw with one hand while the other holds your hip.
He kissed you gently, not at all like what you'd expected, but you feel his adoration flowing out of it, and you can't help but break it to let out a giggle.
"And to think I was crying over you a few hours ago."
He grins, standing up and grabbing your hand to walk back down to the common room together, where your friends were waiting for you to go to dinner.
"No more crying over me okay?"
You nod your head, and he pulls you in for one more kiss before you rejoin the rest of your friends.
#theodore nott#theodore nott scenarios#theodore nott oneshot#theodore nott fanfiction#theodore nott fluff#slytherin boys#theodore nott angst#slytherin x hufflepuff#theodore nott x reader#theodore nott x you#theodore nott x y/n
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i'll love you forever
pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader
summary: you were sunghoon's first everything; first friend, first love, and first heartbreak. after years of quietly crushing on you, he was finally ready to confess. so ready to confess, that he told his parents the two of you were already dating! it was an easy enough lie to keep up and he kept it up for months, what could possibly go wrong? he thought. little did he know, you would have a falling out and stop talking for months.. and then, you'd both get invited to spend a week at home with his parents, who still believe you're his girlfriend.
genre: smut, fluff, angst, college au, childhood best friends to lovers, fake dating
warnings: minors dni, fake dating is pretty mild (sorry), she kinda doesn’t rate him at the start, these two kind of exist in a vacuum a little bit idk i had a self-enforced word count to stick to and broke it.. (im within the 10% allowance !), sunghoon in a vest, sunghoon arms, sunghoon
word count: 21,858
playlist: click here.. (for my non-spotify babes, the main song is light by wave to earth (which for some reason i put last.. whatever))
author's note: for silly @asahicore. happy birthday pooks i hope it's amazing and that u enjoy reading this when u have the time !!! LOL (lots of love) also im never writing without telling you things again this was so absurd.
to everyone else.. ok happy reading also emma did not beta read this so im sure it's missing its charm .. anyway it's for emma not you 😭 anyway i hope u enjoy regardless and lmk ur thoughts! omg this is the first fic im nervous about posting.......... please enjoy or else.
In the three years since Park Sunghoon moved away for university, he’d been doing a pretty good job of going home to see his parents. They’d welcome their baby back to the nest with open arms and wide grins. With a rehearsed level of indifference, his younger sister, Yeji, would say, “Oh, I didn’t know you were coming home this weekend.” when she saw him at the dinner table. Sunghoon pretended to only be marginally hurt by this.
In the last three months, he hasn’t so much as sent a text to his parents.
Or to you.
Ignoring texts from his mother is devastating. Between classes, he watches as, “Hi, sweetie, I love you 😍,” turns into, “Missing you, honey, know you must be busy but spare some time for your old mummy, no?” which turns into, “Getting really worried now, are you doing okay? Has something happened with YN? Talk to me, I love you, my baby boy!”
Ignoring texts from you is easy because texts from you never come.
Sitting at the end of his bed, Sunghoon rereads a text his mother sent a few minutes ago: Please talk to me, son. Really worried and YN isn’t answering calls either. What’s going on with you two?
When he leaves his room, he finds Jake lying on the couch, and with his keys in hand, Sunghoon says, “I’m going home.”
And the drive is great! At least, he tells his mum it is. In truth, the drive home without you was nearly impossible. Your ever-expanding home time playlist buzzed through the speakers in his car, but without you there to screech along to the songs, it wasn’t the same. He felt your absence the most when he stopped to get petrol and you weren’t there behind him struggling to carry enough snacks to feed a small family without offering to pay.
The look of worry on his mum’s face stirs a pit in his stomach. “Why are you so quiet these days? God, you look so tired,” she says, frowning. “Is it school? Or something with YN? It’s not like her not to text back.” Her brows crease as she whispers the word unless. She pulls him into a hug, her chin resting perfectly on his shoulder, and her comforting hand strokes the hair on the back of his head. “Breakups are never easy, honey. I’m so sorry, I know how much you love her.”
Breakups are never easy. The sentence hangs heavy over his head.
Whether she knows it or not, she’s handed him a get-out-of-jail-free card, the opportunity to set things straight, to end this mess once and for all. No further questions, and most importantly, no more lies.
For the first time since he left your flat three months ago, Sunghoon lets himself cry. He’d imagined this moment countless times, his first cry since you ended things. In his mind, it was always intense. Today, as it happens, only a few salty tears leak from his eyes, spilling onto the cuff of his sleeve, darkening the blue cotton in tiny indigo splotches.
“We didn’t break up,” he says in a small voice—for some reason. “I’m just having a hard time.” Neither statement is technically untrue, but the words taste rotten in his mouth.
The tightening grip of his mum’s arms around his body is what brings on the harsh, shoulder-racking sobs he’d been anticipating. For a while, they stand like this, Sunghoon weeping into his mum’s cardigan until she sends him upstairs to lie down, promising a cup of tea that never comes.
His childhood bedroom is chilly, so he changes into clothes he left behind and climbs into bed, pulling his duvet up to his chin. He turns his head to look at the walls and the room around him, everything is exactly where he left it in the summer. It should be comforting, but it’s weird to be home without you.
There are photos of you and him everywhere, growing up and around each other through different stages of life. The two of you together during the summer your family moved in next door, you wore glasses back then and were the first friend he’d made in his life. Sunbathing and sharing earphones at the beach, listening to music together on your iPod classic. Sunghoon in thick glasses with a stiff smile and your arm around him on the first day of high school. Wide grins at the start of this summer, the last time things were okay between you.
Overwhelmed, he stares up at the ceiling, only realising he’s crying when a hot tear slips from his eyes to tickle his ear. Because Sunghoon likes to upset himself, he screws his eyes shut and thinks about the night before you stopped talking.
Though he didn’t know it at the time, you’d left Yeonjun’s place to sit with him in a tiny restaurant on campus, the one you’d only visit to toast to each other’s heartbreaks. It had become a ritual — ever since your first year boyfriend dumped you after two weeks — to cry as much as you wanted and drink as much soju as your bodies could handle before stumbling back to your apartments.
Having spent years suffering from an unrequited crush on his best friend, Sunghoon was always the one to comfort you. But that night was different; you were there to comfort him. It was easy enough to play the part of ‘boy whose crush likes someone else’ because he spent your entire friendship in that role. He’d had no problem accepting his fate, but his composure started to slip when you met Yeonjun. It was the first time you’d dated someone who Sunghoon had reason to be jealous of. In every way, Yeonjun was better than him—taller, funnier, hotter. Sunghoon knew he didn’t stand a chance. He took it personally, you liking Yeonjun instead of him, and let his jealousy consume him from the inside out.
This jealousy led him to start telling you about Minjeong—lying to you about Minjeong, and his feelings for her. She was a girl from a college out of town that he saw on his Instagram Explore page. He followed her by accident, and by some stroke of luck, she followed back. Sunghoon didn’t really have feelings for her — he didn’t even know her — but she was a girl that you didn’t know, so you wouldn’t be able to meddle.
It only took a few weeks for Sunghoon to become so upset about your relationship that he couldn’t hide his emotions anymore. So, in a fit of tears, he told you over the phone that things ended badly with Minjeong, and he was in urgent need of a soju ceremony.
But the night was missing its usual comforts.
It was strange to be the one crying, to see you looking put together and ordering the food. To see you pouring the drinks and raising your glass to propose a toast to ‘Hoonie’s first heartbreak’. You were driving that night, so you only had a tiny sip of soju and let him drink as much as he needed, the way he always did for you, at the same table, in the same restaurant for years.
Hours later, in your car, you entertained his drunken rambles, though he remembers how your lips were set into a frown that he wanted to kiss away while you gripped the steering wheel like you thought it would run from you. Sunghoon was more drunk than he’d been in a while, drunk enough to let you sling his arm over your shoulders and keep him upright until you reached his flat.
The voices coming from Yeji’s room disrupt the memory. He’s thankful.
“Your brother’s going through something, so be nice to him this weekend.” His mother’s voice is her version of hushed—a loud whisper.
Yeji’s response is harder to make out, but he doesn’t miss the way their mum says, “I mean it, missy.”
A dramatic sigh rumbles through Yeji as she barges into his room without knocking. Sunghoon sits up, feeling an ache in his back and crossing his legs.
“Mum told me to lay off you today, which is fine, but before I do, I need to tell you something.”
Yeji pushes the door shut behind her, and the open window makes it slam, both of them flinching from the sudden noise. She pulls her hair out of a silk scrunchie and throws herself on the floor. A pang of irritation forms in his chest, knowing that he could immediately find the empty hanger in his wardrobe where the shirt she’s wearing used to live.
“I hate you and your perfect golden boy image, Hoon. Would it kill you to fail a class for once? I don’t know how I’m supposed to carry on your legacy.” She’s looking up at him, her chin in her hands and irritation written in the crease between her thick brows.
It’s impossible to know if it’s because of Yeji’s complete lack of boundaries or the fact that her ‘perfect, golden boy’ big brother is on track to fail three out of three classes and get cut from the hockey team, but Sunghoon immediately bursts into tears.
“Oh, uh.. I’m sorry?” Yeji offers. “I was kidding if that helps.”
“I’m alright, it’s okay.” The tears don’t stop stinging his eyes. “Why do you want me to change everything about myself?”
With a frown, Yeji pours out her frustration and mild resentment. She doesn’t understand how Sunghoon effortlessly conquers every aspect of life while she struggles. Neither do their parents, who had been baffled by her plummeting grades since she moved to boarding school, especially when Sunghoon’s academic performance has only soared since he left for university. The weight of this perceived injustice pulls Sunghoon’s shoulders down with guilt as she talks about the expectations he has inadvertently set for her.
“But other than that, I’m good.” She shrugs, sitting with her legs out, and leaning back on her palms. “How’s YN?” she asks. It’s clear from the brightness in her voice that she thinks she’s helping.
Sunghoon cries again.
Back on campus, he’s trying to scrape together what’s left of his academic career with the help of two of the smartest guys he knows, and their friend Jay. Though the word ‘friend’ feels a little strong at the moment given the way Jay’s goading him.
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, sitting back in his seat. “There’s nothing you can do that I can’t,” he says, meaning every word.
Jay scoffs, shrugging and raising his brow in a way that, over the years, Sunghoon knows to interpret as his ‘about to say something ridiculous’ look. “Pretty sure I could call YN right now, and she’d answer.”
There’s a pit in Sunghoon’s stomach as Heeseung turns his head in the other direction like he’s been slapped, trembling with stifled laughter. At least Jake doesn’t hide his amusement, throwing his head back in a fit of giggles that draw nasty looks from the other students in the library. Sunghoon doesn’t waste his energy trying to argue because Jay’s right.
Now composed, Heeseung turns back to the table, flipping through some of Sunghoon’s course materials to find whatever his class was doing in class that week. The English Literature class he’s taking — The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway — is the same class he had to send a million emails over the summer to get enrolled in, but it’s the same one Heeseung aced two years ago. Lucky for him none of the boys seem to be in the mood to make fun of him for trying so hard to have a class in common with you, and then practically failing out of it before the term had started properly.
“This class is, like, beyond easy, dude.” Heeseung pauses to sniffle and twist the stud in his ear. “Everyone in my class aced it. How are you doing so badly already?”
“I only took it because YN thought it’d be fun if we had a class together, but.. I kind of haven’t been going since we stopped talking.” Sunghoon shrugs, pretending to be unaffected.
As if the mere mention of your name has some sort of summoning power, like saying Biggie Smalls in the mirror three times, you appear in his eye line, rounding the corner with a furious stride. Your demeanour crumbles when Jay waves at you, and you grin, waving back, but as soon as you look Sunghoon in the eye again, the rage comes back, and you smack a hand on the table when you reach it, leaning over to him.
“Sunghoon, a word?” you ask.
He thinks you’re asking, but it’s hard to tell with the way you set your jaw afterwards, and the way the warmth of your signature vanilla scent hits him hard. Dazed, Sunghoon lifts a hand, pointing at himself. “Me?”
“Does anyone else at the table answer to Sunghoon?”
“Okay,” he says, somewhat pathetically, nudging Jay for laughing at him.
As slowly as possible, Sunghoon pushes his chair from the table and stands up, following you to the corner of the references section where only anthropology students in scratchy thrift store knits, and Jay, come to check out encyclopaedias by volume. You look good, save for the rage written all over your face—which, honestly, Sunghoon thinks he likes.
Sunghoon isn’t sure what to expect, so he says, “Hey.” He’s being cautious, waiting a moment to gauge your reaction. “What’s gooooood?” His cheeks burn as soon as he closes his mouth around the vowel, but you laugh. You laugh, and it’s beautiful and happy, and you’re laughing because of him—or at him, but he’s glad either way.
Annoyance quickly clears all traces of amusement on your face. “Were you ever going to tell me we’re spending next week at Mum and Dad’s?” you ask.
Sunghoon gasps dramatically, clicking his fingers. “I knew there was something I’ve been meaning to do.”
His attempt at lightening the mood falls flat, and you only nudge his shoulder gently, sighing. “Can you be serious? For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me?” You’re frowning, crossing your arms over your chest and looking at your feet. “It’s not fair, Sunghoon. For you to keep saying things—making plans involving me and then acting like I’m the bad guy when I turn you down.”
“I don’t think you’re the bad guy at all,” Sunghoon admits. “If anyone is in the wrong, it’s me, I guess.”
You scoff, looking at him like you hate him. “You guess? Are you serious?” You look furious, but you sound hurt and Sunghoon hates it. Hates himself. “I can’t have this conversation with you right now. Tell mum I’m sick, and it’s contagious.” You roll your eyes and walk away, leaving Sunghoon alone with his thoughts and judgemental stares from students in crochet scarves so long they graze the floor.
He sighs, slumping against the wall. How does he keep getting it wrong with you?
Back at the table, Sunghoon manages to act like he’s not falling apart and makes some serious headway on his missing assignments with Heeseung’s help before they call it a day as the sun starts to set.
When he gets home, he lies down on his bedroom floor, spending hours poring over the conversation you had. Over the minute changes in your facial expression, the tone of your voice, and the endless list of things he should have done, rather than watch you walk away.
The moment feels familiar, both identical to and worlds apart from what happened after you left three months ago. When he managed to scrape the last shreds of his dignity from the kitchen table, he dragged his feet to his room and lay down like he is now, face to the rug. That day, he left his door open and lay so still that Jake thought he was dead. Sunghoon remembers wishing he had been.
For once in your life, even for a second, can you please think about how the things you say affect me? The words run on a loop in his mind, over and over, until he can’t remember the order of the sentence or where you put emphasis. They’re cutting all the same.
Sunghoon sighs into the itchy fibres of his black rug before rolling onto his back. In the diminishing purple light of the setting sun. he looks at the walls of his room. At the Fleetwood Mac poster, he stole from Jay when they moved out of their first year dorm, that curls away from the wall towards the ceiling—a diagonal strip of shiny tape being the only indication of the otherwise invisible tear through the face of Stevie Nicks.
He’s glad when his phone rings, cutting through the quiet, though the sight of your name and the anatomical heart emoji next to it only dampens his spirit. Reluctantly, Sunghoon answers the phone, holding it to his ear.
“I just got off the phone with Dad..” You trail off. Tangible silence follows, so thick it weighs on his chest. “I’ll go home with you.”
“You will?”
“Yes. Goodbye.”
Sunghoon reaches your flat at five in the evening. You don’t smile when you open the door for him, nor do you invite him in. Instead, you dump your bag at your feet and he cringes, looking from the floor to you. You’re aggressively beautiful and cosy-looking as you pull a jacket over the sweater you wore that night. Sunghoon’s heart aches in his chest and he wonders if you even realise. Suddenly, the memory of the last thing you said the morning after hits him like a truck: Then let’s not be friends at all.
A familiar weight lands on his shoulder—your hand. Concern lines your eyes as you ask if he’s okay.
With a lump in his throat, Sunghoon nods.
In the discomfort of his car, the two of you sit in silence while he starts the drive home.
“How’s Yeonjun,” he asks, eyes flicking towards you but regretting it immediately when he sees how you clench your jaw.
“No,” you say simply, shaking your head. “You don’t get to ask me about him.”
These are the only words you exchange until Sunghoon stops for petrol. He has enough fuel for the rest of the journey, but he feels like dying and thinks the fresh air might quell his thoughts of running his car off the road. Like always, the two of you get out and head into the kiosk, where he follows you wordlessly through the aisles, watching you debate on snack choices before settling on the same things you always get. Sunghoon pays for your snacks and you roll your eyes but don’t protest, mumbling thanks as you take them into your arms, leading the way back outside.
He knows he needs to tell you before you reach the house, but he’s not entirely sure how to say it—so he just does. “My, uh.. my parents think we’re dating.”
You stop so suddenly in front of him that he almost bumps into you. Stepping around you, Sunghoon keeps walking.
Over the top of his car, he watches your face cycle through all five stages of grief until anger comes back around in the loop as you scoff. “Why do they think that?” Your face is devoid of expression now, the blankness over your features dragging a sharp chill over his spine.
He stares blankly at you, processing. “Because I told them we’re dating,” he mumbles.
“Why did you.. do that?” You tilt your head, eyes pressing shut in a long blink. “What are you even talking about? Why did you.. What?”
A thin layer of sweat coats his palms despite the cold. Why did he do that? “We can stage a breakup during the trip or say we broke up right now,” Sunghoon offers. “Just one night, YN, please.”
The wind whistles by, ruffling your hair and jacket that you hug tightly to your chest. Behind you, Sunghoon takes note of the group of girls standing by the pumps, all five of them jerking their heads abruptly when they notice him watching, suddenly finding interest in the scattered litter and flickering halogen bulbs in the steel canopy over their heads.
You’re staring when he looks back at you, nostrils twitching with a sniffle before you sigh. “Or we could say that you’re a liar and end things there,” you say. “Or better yet, you go down there on your own and tell them the truth.”
Sunghoon’s gaze drops, his thoughts racing in his mind. He knows you’re right. At some point, his parents will have to find out, and it’d be better for them to find out now. Sunghoon sighs, nodding. “Alright,” he concedes. “I’ll take you back.”
An angry laugh comes out of you as you shake your head. “No need, I’ll walk.”
The station you’re at is neatly nestled in the middle of nowhere, on a road so narrow he’s not even sure it has a pavement. You’re halfway through the three-hour drive, so there’s no telling how long the walk would be, never mind the fact that the sun is already setting and it’s deep enough into October for the wind to sting.
“From here?” he asks, incredulous.
“Yes, open the boot so I can get my bag.”
Sunghoon can only bring himself to say your name, a desperate whisper.
“Open the boot.”
He repeats your name as if it’ll make a difference, he’s pleading with you, begging—though he doesn’t know for what.
You go to the back of his car where Sunghoon joins you, a pit in his stomach when you step away. With misty eyes, you look up at him and his heart breaks. “Please.”
Sunghoon knows you well enough to know that you’re not actually going to attempt the walk home but also knows that you won’t back down if he keeps challenging you. He nods, opening the boot for you and getting into the driver’s seat—your move.
You stand there, unmoving, and long enough passes that he thinks you’ll actually leave. The boot closes softly and you join him in the passenger seat. You sigh, buckling your seatbelt. “Let’s just get this over with.”
For the rest of the journey, you sit in silence as Sunghoon briefs you on the relationship, fighting a smile as he thinks about being your boyfriend—even if only for a night. You scoff when he ‘reminds’ you that you’ve been together for four months now and the only reason you haven’t been able to come home recently is that your schedules don’t match up very well anymore—which couldn’t be further from the truth as, before term started, you went out to celebrate the fact that your class schedules couldn’t be more suited for seeing each other.
Finally, at Sunghoon’s childhood home, the two of you smile and laugh for his parents before going to bed. Your relationship has only made his mother more averse to the idea of you sharing a room under her roof than she had been when you were younger. He’s relieved about this, and in the solitude of his bedroom, he lies on the duvet of his twin bed, staring up at the ceiling and thinking about the last few hours.
With his parents, you’d sat up in the living room watching TV. They sat on the couch together, his mum nestled in his dad’s side, while you two sat on the couch opposite, mirroring their position. If your complete stiffness was anything to go by, you were less than comfortable with his arm around you and Sunghoon felt terrible for begging you to go along with this. It was after midnight when you all went upstairs and you let him kiss your forehead before all but slamming the door to the guest room in his face. His heart twirled and his mum beamed at him before saying goodnight again.
Now, at 3 a.m. he can’t sleep. Flinching at the knock on his door, he furrows his brows and goes to open it. It’s you. Standing there with your hair scraped away from your face in one of his t-shirts. Your eyes are red, brimmed with tears as you step into his room and sit on his bed.
He closes the door softly, heart aching at the sight of you so upset, and when he sits next to you, his heart tears apart because you move over, putting a distance between you. It falls out of his chest onto the floor when he realises you’re not wearing your necklace.
Sunghoon suspected you might have stopped wearing it, it only made sense that if you didn’t want him, you wouldn’t want the necklace he bought for you either, but at least earlier, your sweatshirt sat so high he couldn’t see if you had it on or not.
It was a gift for your sixteenth birthday, after your first heartbreak. He was so upset and angry that you let some loser hurt you that way, upset and angry that someone could be loved by you and fuck it up. Sunghoon was inspired by Jay, who’d gotten a pretty necklace for his girlfriend, and talked about her cute reaction for weeks, how happy she was to have a piece of him with her all the time. It was a locket, with a picture of Jay in one side and a picture of her in the other so the pictures would kiss when she wore it.
While at the jewellers with Jake, Sunghoon thought something like that might be a bit much for the two of you and eventually picked out an equally pretty piece with his first initial on it. He wrote a corny note to put in the box, something about how ‘boys come and go but Sunghoon is forever’ and gave it to you with trembling hands a few nights later—it was the first time he ever made you cry. Immediately, he thought he’d done something wrong and was ready to snatch the box and run back to the jewellers (even though he trashed the receipt). You hugged him and told him you loved him. Sunghoon’s been riding that high ever since.
Until tonight at least.
“Are you okay?” he whispers.
“I’ll do it, Hoon.” Your eyes lift from the floor to meet his gaze. “For as long as you need me to, I’ll pretend.”
As soon as the words leave your mouth, Sunghoon feels lighter, an unbearable weight slipping from his shoulders. You haven’t called him ‘Hoon’ in ages, and he can’t tell if you’ve said it out of vulnerability, or even noticed that you’ve said it at all, but it warms his heart nonetheless. However, he’s not fully at ease, still curious about your sudden change of heart and why you’re crying.
“What happened?”
You pull him into a hug, and his eyes bulge out of his head. “It doesn’t matter,” you say, the words muffled by the skin at the base of his neck.
For as long as he’s known you, you’ve smelled like vanilla, a sweet warmth that grounds him. Yet it’s only after these months apart that he’s able to put a name to the sensation: home. The realisation of how much he’s missed this feeling, missed you, floods him with a rush of emotion so overwhelming he can’t find the words to press the issue. A moment passes before he remembers to hug you back, his arms finally wrapping around you, pulling you close, and you sink into his hold. Months ago, he would have kissed the top of your head and mumbled reassurance into your hair, but tonight, Sunghoon settles for stroking the back of your head and hopes it’s enough.
“You can talk to me, you know? You can always talk to me.”
A heavy silence follows, sharp as a dagger—scraping his skin, making the hair on the back of his neck stand on edge and lodging itself between his shoulder blades. Sunghoon’s breath hitches in his throat when you cling onto him even tighter, shifting so close you’ve had to settle in his lap. His heart races in his chest, pounding a rhythm so loud it fills the room.
Finally, you speak, assuring him that you know and that you’re okay. At this, Sunghoon holds you as tight as he can, and neither of you speaks for the rest of the night. You fall asleep like this, in his arms, so deeply that you don’t even stir when he lies down.
Rubbing your back, he watches the clock on his nightstand, the piercing green LED digits cycling through two whole hours right before his stinging eyes until you wake up. Sunghoon presses his eyes shut, pretending to be asleep when you kiss his cheek and leave his room.
For the entire morning, you stay in your room, and although Sunghoon is concerned, he decides not to bother you. In the afternoon, he sits at the dining table with his mum, listening as she talks about work. When she asks him, he gets up to make a cup of tea for her. It’s at that moment when you finally come downstairs, looking so effortlessly pretty. Your hair is still damp from the shower, and you’re bundled up in one of his old sweatshirts. There’s a bright grin on your face that leaves his heart thudding.
“Baby!” you squeal when you see him, charging towards him and wrapping your arms around him from behind. “Good morning.” Your words are muffled against the back of his t-shirt, and the four-letter word, and the sugar coating it, make his cheeks burn.
“It’s great to see you too, YN,” his mum says with a smile. “My night was amazing; I slept very well and had no dreams.”
You let go of Sunghoon and walk over to the table, kissing his mum on the cheek and wishing her a good morning as well. “Sorry, mum, how are you?”
His mother doesn’t seem to have the heart to correct you either, allowing your 3 p.m. ‘good morning’ to go unnoticed.
Sunghoon carefully fills both mugs to the brim and, with extra caution, carries them to the table. He places a steaming cup of peppermint tea in front of his mum and a milky coffee in front of you. A warm smile spreads across your face as you mouth a ‘thank you’, and his knees turn to jelly.
The next day, after eating an early dinner with his parents at the table, the four of you go out on a walk along the bike path you used to take for school. His parents have gone ahead, not intentionally, but because Sunghoon can’t stop you from dragging your feet.
As with most things in the town where you grew up, nothing about the trail has changed. The leaves are yellowing in standard form for the season, and crunching under his feet with each step he takes. The only foreign experience is the silence that you’re determined to uphold. Everything Sunghoon says to you is met with either a hum, a nod, or no acknowledgement at all. At this point, he feels like he could drop dead at your side and the most you’d do is step over his body like a fallen branch.
After letting you go ahead, the weathered slats of the wooden footbridge sag in the middle under his tread. It’s been like this for as long as he can remember and he wonders how nothing has been done about it. The stream rushes under it, loud and unruly, the smell of wet grass both comforting and suffocating as you look over the railing. It’s like something from a postcard, the low-hanging branches sweeping back and forth under the breeze, the grass lush and green around the path, murky water thrashing against the mud and rocks underneath with you in the middle of the frame, peering over the edge.
You keep walking when Sunghoon approaches, leaving him alone on the creaky bridge with nothing but the ache in his chest. He looks up, staring at the grey clouds in the sky through the gaps in the leaves, and sighs.
Eventually, he catches up with you, grabbing your hand and locking his fingers with yours when his parents slow down. You stiffen, looking up at him with cut eyes and a creased brow. “What are you doing?”
Sunghoon matches your clipped tone. “Holding my girlfriend’s hand.”
“No one’s looking, boyfriend.”
“You think my parents aren’t going to wonder why we’re lagging behind?”
A scoff—your fingers remain defiantly stiff. “Do you think your parents are going to care whether or not we’re holding hands?”
“My mum might after the show you put on yesterday afternoon, baby.” Bitterness covers the word like a blanket, a stark departure from how you said it.
A long sigh rumbles its way out of you before you fix your lips into a strained grin. “Sorry, sweetheart, this is my first time pretending to be in love.”
As your words hang in the air, Sunghoon’s emotions brew like a storm within him. Frustration gnaws at his patience. All hopes for a smooth week are dashed, though determination simmers in his chest with a strong resolve to make this work, to fix your relationship. It doesn’t stop the sharp pang of hurt piercing his stomach—he knows you don’t feel the same way, he knows you’re faking, but the word ‘pretending’ hits him like a truck anyway.
“We held hands all the time when we were friends,” he points out.
Your smile drops immediately, hurt flashing behind your eyes. “Yeah, and now we’re not.”
If there was a competition for who could hurt Sunghoon’s feelings the most, you’d be a shoo-in for first place. With distinction.
“Exactly!” he says, feeling the sting of his own words. “Because now we’re dating.”
At the sight of his mum turning around, you switch up in an instant. Lock your fingers with his, wrapping an arm around his bicep, leaning into him, giggling. It’s forced but his parents are far enough away that all that matters is the curve of your lips.
“You two okay back there?” she asks.
“Perfect! I feel like a kid again!” you call back, beaming up at Sunghoon in a way that makes his stomach flutter even though it doesn’t meet your eyes.
The two of you don’t talk at all when you get home, with you hugging his parents goodnight and running up the stairs.
“She’s not feeling too well,” he explains, nodding when his dad tells him to make you some tea.
His parents spend the whole day at work, and you spend the whole day following him around like a shadow until the evening when they return. He doesn’t pretend not to like it.
Sunghoon helps you make dinner, turning leftover rice into fried rice with the help of some eggs and vegetables. It’s nice moving around the kitchen with you, watching you scramble eggs in his t-shirt and bump his hip with a playful frown when he eats some of the peppers you’re chopping.
His parents watch from the table, cooing over the two of you and he does his best to fight the blush forming on his cheeks and neck. Embarrassed, he hugs you from behind, hiding his face in your neck—the scent of your coconut conditioner mixing with your vanilla perfume doesn’t do anything to stop the flush.
Over a bottle of wine, the four of you eat together at the table, swapping stories about your days. Sunghoon tries to hide his surprise as you lie about the time you spent at the play park by your primary school, competing for height on the swings and spinning on the roundabout until you couldn’t stand up. You grin at him, and it meets your eyes as you hold his hand under the table, and kiss his cheek.
After eating, his parents head upstairs, leaving to clean up together. You hum a song he’s never heard as you load the dishwasher, carefully placing the plates and cutlery in the rack, shaking your head when he hands you the glasses you’d used.
“Leave ours,” you say. “If you want.”
Sunghoon nods, putting them back on the table, where you sit in the seat across from the one he was sitting in. He sits too, staying quiet rather than saying the wrong thing. You don’t speak either. It’s reminiscent of the past—the hours you’d spend in the same room, only speaking to share a funny post you’d come across or to ask if you were hungry.
His eyes track your movements—reaching for the half-empty bottle on the table to pour yourself another glass, filling it to the brim. Before putting it down, you offer him some, filling his glass too when he nods. The three glasses of wine he’s already had must be the reason he wants to reach across the table and hold your hand, run his thumb over the soft skin on the back of it.
Sunghoon doesn’t know why you’ve been so nice to him all day or why it makes his chest hurt.
“You know you don’t have to be nice to me when we’re alone, right?” The words come out before he can stop them.
Over the top of your glass, your brows knit together. A sound of confusion, a low hum, comes from your throat as you try to finish your sip. “What?” you ask finally.
“I only asked you to do this because of my parents, you know? You don’t have to sit or talk with me when they’re not around.”
Sunghoon’s known you long enough to recognise the look that flashes across your face. The way your eyes narrow and your brows tug together, the little pout that sets on your lips before you speak; you’re hurt.
“Why can’t I just be nice to you because it’s the right thing to do?”
Because it hurts, is what he wants to say. He wants to cry, to beg you to forget everything he said that day. “Because I don’t want to make you any more uncomfortable than I already have.” Is what he settles for.
Your face softens. “I don’t feel uncomfortable around you, Hoon. We were best friends for ages, I don’t think you could ever make me uncomfortable.” You pause to take a gulp of wine. “Why can’t I just want to be nice to you?”
Sunghoon has to chew on his cheek to distract himself from how much your word choice stings. The implications of were and all of your past tense. “I’m sorry,” he says.
“What for?”
“Everything.”
There’s a sadness in the way you run your fingers on the base of your glass. The way you chew on your lip, how your hair falls when you tilt your head and how it moves when you shake it. “It’s not your fault,” you say. “I don’t know anyone who would choose to have unrequited feelings for their best friend.”
Wow, he thinks. You’re on a roll. Sunghoon wonders if you’re meticulously choosing your phrasing to upset him. Wonders why you feel the need to remind him that his feelings aren’t reciprocated as if he didn’t live through and spend hours reliving the day he confessed.
“But I didn’t have to tell you about it. It was unfair of me to spring that on you when I knew about Yeonjun.”
“Did you.. did you think I was going to leave him for you?”
“Maybe?” Sunghoon chews on his lip—he has no idea what he thought would happen. “I think I thought I loved you enough for both of us, that you might play the part for fun or out of curiosity, and.. I don’t know, just learn to love me.”
“Hoon,” you whisper, frowning. “How could you even think about settling for something like that?”
Sunghoon shrugs. “It’s not settling if it’s you.”
Silence takes a seat at the table after he speaks, interrupted only by the ticking clock on the wall—a glittery mess of scrapbooking paper and washi tape layered over each other that Yeji had decorated at summer camp years ago. You’re picking at your fingernails, letting flecks of black polish fall to the table, stark against the varnished oak.
“I know it’s not my place to ask,” Sunghoon starts after a while, hesitant and only continuing when you nod. “But what did Yeonjun say when you told him? About.. everything?”
You take a long sip from your glass and sit quietly for so long that he thinks you’re not going to answer him—he doesn’t blame you.
“I didn’t.”
He waits for you to elaborate. You don’t.
Sunghoon nods slowly, deciding not to ask any follow-up questions. Instead, he takes another drink, scrunching his nose at the bitter taste. “He didn’t ask why we stopped hanging out?” he blurts out.
“I told him we fell out but I didn’t say why.” You shrug, but your posture is stiff.
“Where did you tell him you were going to be this week?” He knows it’s not his business at all, that he’s pushing your boundaries, but he can’t help his curiosity.
“Nowhere.”
“You told him you were staying on campus?”
“I didn’t tell him anything.” Your gaze shifts, avoiding his as you toy with the stem of your glass. You drum your nails against it, letting the dull clink ring out.
“So you just left?”
“Does it make a difference to you?”
Sunghoon nods.
For a while, you tug at the drawstrings on your hoodie, pursing your lips to the side, considering this. “Yeonjun and I aren’t together anymore.” Your admission is so shocking that Sunghoon’s jaw drops. He tries to cover his surprise by coughing, his tongue sticking out like a small child. “I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want you to think it was because of you.”
Sunghoon’s thoughts move at lightspeed, too fast for him to catch onto any of them and process this information. His emotions compete with each other—disbelief, guilt, and a painful glimmer of hope he hadn’t dared to acknowledge until now all at the forefront.
“Was it?” he asks. “Because of me?”
You scoff—an incredulous sound that doesn’t match the sad look on your face. “I don’t know, Sunghoon. Do you think my boyfriend used me to make his ex jealous because of you?”
He’s not sure what he expected you to say, but this is.. Complete disbelief eclipses him as his heart sinks in his chest, shock, and guilt bubbling in his stomach.
“I’m sorry,” he says after too long. “That I wasn’t there. That I haven’t been there.”
“You didn’t know,” you say, gaze softening as you look up at him.
“But I made you feel like you couldn’t talk to me about it.”
You shake your head. “I made me feel like I couldn’t talk to you about it. All you did was change the friendship, I’m the one who ended it.”
“I still should’ve been there.”
“You’re here now, right?”
Sunghoon nods, earnestly. “Always.”
Only one thing comes to mind when you repeat the word ‘always’ before taking a sip from your glass, downing its contents. Sunghoon gets up and crosses the room with wobbly steps to open the fridge, where he pulls out as many bottles of soju as he can hold in his hands and puts them down on the table. He goes back to collect some glasses from the cabinet, puts some of the leftover fried rice from dinner into the microwave, and brings it all over when it’s done, with bowls and utensils. You watch him with a fond smile as he opens a bottle and he hopes you think the flush on his cheeks is from all the drinking you’ve been doing.
“Is it bad that I’ve missed doing this?” You’re grinning now.
Sunghoon shakes his head, raising his glass. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak.”
You grin, clinking the rim of your glass against his. “To YN’s fifteenth heartbreak,” you repeat.
Both of you down the glasses, and Sunghoon refills them, pouring the soju with an oddly steady hand. As you eat spoonfuls of rice and sip your drinks, silence settles over the room. The soft glow of the kitchen lights forms a warm ambience, a cosy familiarity that brings up simple memories—doing homework together at the table while gossiping about your classmates, the first New Year after you were both eighteen and had your first drink with his parents.
For at least an hour, the only sounds are the occasional clinks of forks against bowls, glasses hitting the table, the faint hum of the refrigerator and the steady tick of Yeji’s clock. Sunghoon’s eyes meet yours, and he can’t help but notice the slight change in your expression when they do.
You clear your throat, running a hand through your hair. “This is my sixteenth, actually.”
“What?”
You take a small sip of soju, staring down at the table. “My fifteenth heartbreak was losing you. Yeonjun is my sixteenth.”
In the two days since your soju ceremony, Sunghoon finds himself sinking into the role of your boyfriend like a hot bath. But there’s no use pretending it doesn’t hurt. Pretending it doesn’t hurt when you kiss his cheek before bed, or when you reach out to push the hair out of his face or snuggle into his side on the couch; because it does hurt—a lot. It hurts to think that in three days when you put your bags in the boot of his car, you’ll sit in silence all the way home. When he drops you off at your flat, you’ll close the door in his face and stop talking to him again. These realisations are harder to confront when he’s alone in his room, like now.
About an hour ago, you asked if you could borrow his car, saying there was something you needed to do on your own. It seemed important, so he handed over his keys with no question. Sighing, Sunghoon gets up from his bed and heads to the shower, where he jerks off to clear his mind. On his way back to his room, he notices the light leaking from the open kitchen door that illuminates the landing.
He hears the lock on the front door clicking, and stands at the top of the stairs, dripping water onto the carpet while listening attentively. His ears perk up when he hears a gasp—his mother.
“What’s this for?” she asks.
“I just..” You trail off. “I know it’s not much, but I wanted to thank you both for always looking after me.” You pause, and Sunghoon holds his breath, waiting. Your voice trembles as you continue. “It’s been hard since my parents went back home, and I guess it was still hard when they were here, but you both supported me. I don’t think I could’ve managed without you guys. I want to make you guys proud, you know? And I’m trying, really, so this is me saying thank you. I’m sorry it took me so long.”
He grips the railing by the landing, digging his nails into the wood until they start hurting—an ache in his fingertips that makes him wince.
An odd feeling settles in his stomach, a bittersweetness tinged in his fondness for you, and the gentle shock of realising how much his parents have done for you. Growing up, you became an honorary member of Sunghoon’s family. His parents showered you with gifts during holidays and birthdays, which you often celebrated with them rather than your own family.
The memory of your parents’ sudden decision to move across the country still lingers, and Sunghoon vividly recalls the tearful conversation he overheard at the top of the stairs. Your parents understood the enormity of their request but had earnestly asked if Sunghoon’s parents could continue looking after you.
His chest tightens when you start crying.
“You don’t have to thank us for anything, sweetie. Just you being here and taking care of our boy is more than enough thanks. You never forget our birthdays, and you always come and visit when you can. You’re doing a great job, and you should give yourself some credit,” his dad says, a little choked up. “We’ve always been proud of you.”
Sunghoon’s eyes sting with tears and his skin gets dry in the spots where the water from the shower is evaporating. He presses his fingers to his closed eyes, forcing a few tears to fall and walks the rest of the way to his room with his eyes shut. He can’t hear anything through his closed bedroom door, which he decides is a good thing as he coats himself in moisturiser and swipes deodorant under his arms with intention to spend the whole night alone. Once he’s dressed, he gets into bed and pretends not to be bothered by the way his wet hair dampens his pillow. Under the duvet, he tosses and turns before sighing and heading to Yeji’s room.
In her absence, the room’s subtle transformation is stark. The sage green-painted walls, once a backdrop to the A3 faces of Wave to Earth and Beabadoobee, now bear the faint imprints of those missing posters. Tiny, shadowy rectangles are the only remnants of the 6x4-sized pictures of her and her friends, of her and Sunghoon, that she took away with her to school.
Her hairdryer is still on her desk where she’d left it for him to use and he sits in her stiff wooden chair, plugging it in. The airflow starts immediately, hot and loud, humming throughout the space as he runs his fingers through his wet hair, feeling cosy under the heat. His shampoo is fresh and soapy scented under his nose, and his reflection watches him in Yeji’s mirror, eyes red and concerned while his hair blows around his head. Sunghoon closes his eyes and finishes his hair, sighing as he lets his worries slip under the whir of the fan.
Finished, he shuts off the dryer and opens his eyes, flinching at your reflection in the doorway behind him with a soft smile on your face. “Mum and Dad are going to open a bottle of wine if you want to join,” you say, meeting his eyes in the mirror.
Sunghoon can’t find it in himself to speak, only nodding in response. You smile wider but don’t move. He unplugs the hairdryer and leaves it on the desk where he found it before crossing the room. Without giving himself a chance to think about it, he pulls you into a hug and kisses the top of your head, smiling into your hair when you wrap your arms around his waist, holding him closer.
You’re sitting on the edge of the bathtub, mumbling sleepily that you’re never going to drink again, and Sunghoon leans over the sink brushing his teeth, he’s glad you have the decency to cover your mouth as you speak.
“Brush your teeth and go back to sleep then,” he mumbles around his toothbrush.
You don’t respond.
Sunghoon sighs through his nose, spitting foamy toothpaste into the sink, leaving bubbly, blue splatters on the porcelain. “And quit staring at me, I can feel your beady little eyes on the back of my neck and it’s freaking me out.”
“But you’re so pretty,” you coo.
There’s a flutter in his stomach and he rinses off the sink and his mouth, buying himself some time. With a hand on the Listerine, he lifts his gaze to meet yours in the mirror and stops short. You’re still staring at him, features soft and glowing under the afternoon light. You look like an angel; a gentle smile spreading over your lips, and a sleepy glint sparkling in your eyes, wide and gorgeous as you watch him. Sunghoon gulps, mumbling his thanks and looking back at himself. He hopes you can’t see the flush on his cheeks.
“Go back to sleep,” he says.
“Will you come and lie down with me if I do?” Your voice is a sleepy drawl, coming out in a slow, high-pitched slur, and your eyes are closing on themselves.
Lying down doesn’t sound like a terrible idea, especially not if it’s with you, so he nods. “If you brush your teeth, then yeah, baby, I’ll lie down with you.”
You chuckle softly at Sunghoon’s agreement, the sound carrying a mix of exhaustion and genuine amusement, showing no repulsion to him calling you the B-word. He didn’t mean to, it’s been a confusing few days. You nod, saluting to him and getting up to join him by the sink, using your hip to bump him out of the way, but he feels like he’s glued to the spot.
“Move, baby,” you mumble sleepily, reaching for your toothbrush. “We can cuddle in my bed,” you suggest, to which Sunghoon only nods, taking your words as a cue to unstick his feet from the floor and go to your room, playing the word ‘baby’ on a loop in his head.
He stands in the doorway staring at your bed, the duvet is all crumpled in the middle, and the pillows are in an L shape at the top corner. He sighs, he can’t go on like this, can’t stand around hoping even a tiny part of you called him ‘baby’ and it meant something for you as it did for him. It’s not fair for him to project his feelings on you like this, but he can’t help it. You’re already pretending for his parents, so would it be so bad to pretend for his sake as well? Even if only until the day after tomorrow when you leave?
The sound of the bathroom door shutting behind you snaps him out of his thoughts, your bright smile making his heart race when you tug him by the sleeve to your bed where the mattress dips underneath you as you curl into his form, resting your head on his chest and falling asleep. You’ve shared the bed before, countless times, but he knows you’ve only asked him because you’re tired. Because your brain is foggy with drowsiness that clouds your judgement, not because you want him there, not because you miss him when he’s two doors down the hall, tossing and turning at night thinking about you. He wonders absently if you can feel his aching heart beating through his chest, a painful, yet all too familiar rhythm that pulls his own eyes shut, plunging him into a deep sleep too.
It’s dark in the room when he wakes up, the sun already down behind the curtains and the soft yellow of the bedside lamp casting a glow around the space. You’re staring up at him, smiling and you don’t look away when he catches you. “What is it?” he asks, voice thick with sleep.
“Nothing,” you mumble. “I just missed you.” Sunghoon has no time to respond or even register what you said before you clear your throat, speaking again. “Come on, dad’s cooking tonight, he’ll need help.”
Helping Sunghoon’s dad with dinner always looks an awful lot like Sunghoon eating snacks on the kitchen counter and staring at you as you help his dad cook. Tonight is no exception, he’s sitting on the island, and his snack of choice is a family pack of Chilli Heatwave Doritos his mum bought for Yeji. He’ll have to remember to replace them before leaving seeing as he’s reaching the halfway point.
You go back and forth with his dad about measurements, with you rummaging through the drawers for measuring cups while his dad says it’s best to trust your gut. Reluctantly, you nod, chewing the inside of your cheek as you watch him eyeball the seasoning.
The gas stove turns the kitchen into an oven, and you complain about it while opening a window, pulling your hoodie over your head and leaving it in Sunghoon’s lap. Time stops when you grin at him, the light from the stove hood illuminating the necklace you’re wearing, his initial resting on your chest and glowing under the light. He chokes around a crisp when he sees it, catching your attention with his coughing.
“You’ll spoil your dinner, snacking like that, baby,” you scold, using a hand to push his knee. “We’re almost done, I swear.”
All he can do is nod, cheeks burning as he folds the crisp packet over before putting it back in the bread bin where he found it.
“Wow,” his dad says, resting his hands on his hips and shaking his head in amusement. “Being in love looks good on him, he’d never have listened if I said that.”
It’s already your last day when Sunghoon picks up Yeji from school. She grumbles for the entire half-hour drive and all the way to the front door about why the two of you couldn’t have started the trip today instead of ending it, but all of her irritation dissolves when she sees you in the hallway, leaving the front door wide open to fling her arms around you. You and Yeji exchange compliments for a while — You look so pretty. No, you look so pretty. I love your hair. I love your hair. — as Sunghoon locks the door and watches with a smile.
“God.” Yeji sighs, holding you by the waist and craning her neck up to look at you, as you push some of her hair from her face, pinning back her wispy bangs with the palm of your hand. Yeji giggles. “I’m so happy you two are together, even though I have no idea what a girl like you sees in my loser brother.”
Sunghoon rolls his eyes, leaning back against the wall. Despite his mild irritation at Yeji’s words, he finds the sight of you with her so adorable his stomach flutters. Over the top of Yeji’s head, you look at him with a fond smile. “He’s not so bad.”
It doesn’t sound like a compliment, but Sunghoon takes it to heart.
Like always, Yeji manages to capture your undivided attention and the two of you giggle and whisper with each other all afternoon while Sunghoon watches, too enamoured by the sight to care about being left out. An hour or so passes like this, until his parents get home from work, excited to see Yeji after a few weeks, and you leave her side, coming to cuddle with Sunghoon instead.
It’s nice being home with everyone, laughing and sharing a meal before his family walks the two of you to his car with at least a month’s worth of cooked food for you to share at university. Yeji makes you pinky promise that she can visit you and waves with a pout on her face until the car is out of view.
Contrary to what he’d been expecting, the drive back is nice. Your playlist is on, and you’re telling him about all the new songs you added, catching him up on things with Chaewon and Yunjin, and all the things you got up to in the time you spent apart. You tell him about a new café that opened up near your place and how you’ll have to go together when he has the time, and Sunghoon bites his tongue before telling you that he always has time for you. The first half of the trip goes on like this but you start dozing off around the halfway mark, your sentences becoming few and far between, eventually turning into half-mumbled thoughts that end prematurely.
You’re still asleep when he reaches your flat, head propped up against the window with your soft lips parted, looking too pretty and cosy to wake up. Instead, he drives in circles around your block, deciding to wait for you to wake up on your own. It only takes a half-hour but you blink your eyes open, stretching your neck before looking around and out the car window, recognising the street. You don’t say anything, only smiling when you look at him, a small curve of your lips that makes his heart race.
He gets out of the car with you, opening the boot to get your bag before pulling you into his chest for a hug, liking the way your arms settle around his waist. “Thank you,” he mumbles into your hair.
Sunghoon doesn’t follow you when you take your bag from him, only watching from the back of his car. You don’t notice until you reach the main door, looking over your shoulder and frowning at him. “Aren’t you going to walk me up?”
The two of you walk in silence up four flights of stairs as the lift in your building is out of order. Your bag feels much heavier in his hand now than it did outside. At your door, he watches you dig around for your keys, sighing with relief when you find them.
“Do you want to come in?” you ask from your open doorway.
“I—uh—I have training in the morning and I’m already pretty tired, so..” He trails off.
Unfazed, you nod. “Right, of course. I had fun this week.”
“Yeah, me too.”
You smile at him, sweet and sincere. “Text me when you get home, yeah?”
Sunghoon nods, saying goodbye. Out of habit, he doesn’t leave your doorstep until he hears the lock click shut, and walks back to his car with his head down.
True to his word, he sends you a text to let you know he got back to his place safely and you read it immediately but don’t reply. It’s empty in the apartment, Jake is out with his football team and the space is larger than usual in his absence. Far too tired to even consider going out and joining him, Sunghoon goes through his night routine, putting his phone on the charger and stepping into the shower where he spends entirely too long wishing he could live in this week forever as he scrubs his body. With brushed teeth and damp hair, he goes back into his room where his phone lights up with a notification; a text, from you.
YN🫀: i’m glad you got home okay, i just got into bed :) i don’t want to make you uncomfortable or overstep or anything and you can say no (obviously).. i’ve been missing you so much and didn’t know how to reach out or if you wanted me to but i had soooo much fun this week and spending time with you again made me happy, so i’d like it if we could keep hanging out, like before yk? ik it’s a long shot ahahaha but just say you’ll think about it?
hoonie: You’re not overstepping at all, I’ve missed you too, so bad. I had soooo much fun this week as well and I’d like it a lot if we kept hanging out, thank you for agreeing and coming along 😚 If you’re free after Lit tmrw you could come over? Or we could go out and do something, whatever you prefer
hoonie: I missed you so much..
hoonie: 🤍
The texts greet you as the first rays of Monday morning light filter into your room, instantly lifting your mood. Your bright smile doesn’t escape Chaewon’s notice as you find her in the kitchen, bathed in the soft light seeping through the sheer curtains. The kettle is boiling with a loud rumble that fills the whole room and leaves her yelling as she speaks to you.
“Good trip?” she asks, coming over and hugging you. “Never leave me for that long again,” she mumbles into your shirt.
“It was a week, Wonie,” you say, rolling your eyes even though you missed her too.
She leans away, looking at you with knitted brows. “It was nine days.”
“The longest of my life.”
Chaewon pulls air through her teeth, tilting her head and releasing you. “That bad, huh?” she asks, walking back to her seat at your tiny square table and shooting you a look that tells you to join her.
During your trip, you gave her nightly updates over text, so you know she knows how much you enjoyed yourself, but you elaborate anyway, sitting across from her.
“No, not at all,” you say, shaking your head and trying to fight a smile. “I had fun.” As soon as the words leave your mouth, you have to bite your bottom lip to stop the grin curving them; it doesn’t work.
Chaewon raises a suggestive brow, crossing her arms over her chest. “How much fun?”
“You’re disgusting.”
“I didn’t even say anything!” she defends, holding her hands up. “I made an implication. It was only a matter of time, you two have that whole.. lifelong best friends to lifelong lovers thing going on, and it’s hot.”
“Shut up.”
“You’re telling me, you spent nine days playing lovers with Sunghoon and you still don’t want him? You’re a lost cause, people would kill for that chance,” she says, tilting her head. “I think I would kill for that chance.”
“Don’t touch him.”
“Oh?”
“Jesus, Chaewon, it’s not like that. Hoon’s too sensitive for your roster.”
“I never said it was like anything, you’re the one who’s dangling me over the ledge for saying I want to fuck your hot best friend.”
“Sunghoon isn’t hot; he’s..” You find yourself at a loss for words, unsure how to continue your lie. Of course, Sunghoon is hot, you’ve known since you were seventeen and spent the summer at your grandparents’ house, only to come back to find your previously scrawny best friend having ditched his LEGOs for dumbbells. You sigh. “Just leave him alone.”
Chaewon grins, eyes sparkling as she leaves the table. “Okay,” she says in a singsong voice, leaving you and the irritation in your stomach alone in the kitchen.
You sigh, pressing your eyes shut and trying to will away your discomfort. It’s not like Chaewon would actually try anything with Sunghoon. Right? Even if she did, it wouldn’t bother you, nor would it be any of your business. They’re grownups and reserve the right to explore their options. Still, there’s a nagging feeling you can’t shake, an uninvited guest in the back of your mind.
When you check your phone, you realise you have half an hour before you need to head to campus, so you leave to get ready and text Sunghoon back on the way to your room.
you: sounds good, see u later 🤍
After showering, you stand in front of your wardrobe, towel hanging from your body as you pick an outfit. For some reason, you feel under pressure, picking a pair of jeans that do the most for your ass and a low-cut top that Sunghoon once — drunkenly — said he loved on you.
You have the residual sting of mouthwash on your tongue, and one foot out the door when your phone vibrates in your hand.
hoonie: Do you want to head to class together?
you: sure! i’m omw out, where should i get you?
hoonie: .. I’m outside your building :D
Breathing a laugh through your nose, you don’t fight the giddy smile on your face as you make your way downstairs to meet Sunghoon. Through the glass in the main door, he’s standing at the edge of the pavement and kicking a stone between his feet. The top of his puffer jacket covers the bottom half of his face, and the draught nips your skin when the door opens. Two girls you vaguely recognise stumble in with smudged makeup and heels in their hands, smiling at you while holding the door to let you out.
“Hey!” you call out, jogging over to him.
Sunghoon turns around, his head poking out of his jacket to grin at you, holding a travel cup and an abundance of tinfoil in your direction.
“I wasn’t sure if you’d have eaten anything yet, you don’t normally in the morning,” he says, a sheepish smile spreading over his lips when you take it. “Matcha. Ham and cheese toastie.”
“Did you make these?” you ask, inspecting the familiar cup and appreciating the warmth it provides.
He hums, nodding his head.
You ignore the heat spreading over your cheeks and thank him with a hug, grinning when he offers to hold your drink while you eat on the walk. The toastie is still hot, the cheese coming close to burning your tongue as you chew, but you appreciate it wholeheartedly, humming contently with each bite. When you’re done, you shove the foil into your pocket, taking your drink from him and smiling around the sweet taste of a matcha latte as he tells you about his schedule for the day.
“I’m meeting with Coach after class to talk about my grades, but I’m all yours after that.”
“Talk about your grades? What’s wrong with your grades?”
Sunghoon groans, head falling back and highlighting the bump of his Adam’s apple. “My grades are.. I failed my coursework this month, so I have resubmissions during finals, and I think he’ll bench me if I fail again.”
He sounds like he’s being serious, and if the look on his face is anything to go by, he is. The news creases your brows because for as long as you remember, Sunghoon’s grades were your parents’ favourite point of comparison.
“Really?” you ask. He nods. “What’s up? Is something the matter?”
A humourless laugh slips out of him before he pulls air through his teeth. “Yeah, my best friend didn’t talk to me for three months.”
“Oh..” Guilt stirs your stomach as you look up at him. “I’m sorry.”
“I’m not blaming you, it’s not like I was trying to talk and you ignored me.” He nudges your arm with his elbow, giving you a warm smile. “But if you feel as guilty about it as you look, you can tutor me for Lit.”
“Deal.”
Sunghoon grins, wrapping his arm over your shoulders and holding you close; the action itself isn’t unusual, but the increased heart rate it brings about is. “You’re too good to me,” he says, holding onto you for the rest of the walk to class.
At his request, you sit with Sunghoon in the back row, watching as the lecture hall gradually fills up in front of you. He seems well-prepared, with his laptop and a small notepad and pen neatly arranged on the desk in front of him.
Throughout the class, your eyes inadvertently track his every move. He diligently types up colour-coded notes, occasionally pausing to write things in his notepad before continuing to type or stopping entirely to listen. There’s something melodic about his actions and the way his fingers run over the keyboard.
During a five-minute break, you glance at his screen. What you find is more than just lecture content; it’s a document adorned with Sunghoon’s own musings about Hemingway’s style and carefully analysed quotations that go beyond the class discussion.
“How are your notes so good?”
“I picked up the book over the summer when you mentioned it,” Sunghoon replies with a shrug, a shy smile playing on his lips as he leans back in his seat. “I liked it.”
A slow nod is your response, though your thoughts swirl like autumn leaves in a breeze. The last time Sunghoon read for leisure, you were in primary school, buddy reading Diary of a Wimpy Kid. But this—this is different. You can’t help but stare at him, awestruck as you take him in. His eyes are wide, shining amber in the sunlight as he pushes some of his hair from his face, frowning when it falls back where it was.
“Don’t look at me like that,” he mumbles.
Sunghoon takes a new line in his document and points at the screen where you watch the cursor move through the words he’s typing: I would’ve read and annotated the Bible if you wanted me to..
There’s no time to digest what he wrote or the funny feeling in your chest as you reread it before he deletes the whole sentence, pressing his lips together and looking out the window. Speechless, you stare at his side profile, willing your heart rate to slip back to normal. Steep-sloping nose, plump lips flattened into a line, two points of the triangular mole constellation on his face. Analysis worsens your condition, breath hitching in your throat before stopping entirely. Warmth and trepidation blend within you, fuzzy enough at the edges to seem like one thing—a single force that makes your palm itch with desire, desperation, to reach out and run a finger over his features, feel the bump of the mole on his nose — the most prominent — against your skin.
You remain this way — silent, watching — even when your lecturer resumes the lesson, and Sunghoon starts typing, writing, and listening again. Polite enough to pretend he doesn’t notice your gaze searing into his face.
After class, and his meeting with Coach, you let Sunghoon lead the conversation and the way to your flat, where you find Chaewon and Yunjin sitting on the couch, whispering to themselves while the two of you study at the coffee table. It’s uncomfortable, an awkward height, too high for the way you’re sitting but you feel calm under the supervision of Chaewon and Yunjin—you won’t do anything to merit teasing in front of them, no matter how badly you want to feel Sunghoon’s face in your hands or stroke his cheekbones with your thumbs.
To the best of your ability, you answer the questions he has for you—he’d written a ton in his tiny notepad during class, his own concerns clear with each neatly-penned iteration of: How to see actions/dialogue for what they are and not what I want them to be? written in the margins and you try not to feel heartbroken for him.
Three hours have passed by when you walk him to the door, the two of you wrapped up in a bubble so secure you’re surprised to find Chaewon and Yunjin still sitting on the couch. They don’t say anything about Sunghoon in his absence, or the fact he’d given you his sweater when he noticed you were cold. You’re not sure why their silence disappoints you.
Instead, Yunjin asks you about trivial things like dinner while Chaewon sits in silence.
“What flavour for ice cream?” Yunjin asks, rolling her eyes when you tug on the blanket but not complaining. “And don’t say something ridiculous like mint chocolate, YN.”
“That happened once! And it was three years ago.. How was I supposed to know you hate fun?”
Chaewon leans into you, letting you curl your limbs around her from behind as you rest your chin on her shoulder, liking the way her clean scent tickles your nose.
“Mint-cho isn’t that bad,” she starts. “It’s a little jarring, sure, but it’s kind of sweet. Like watching people come to terms with their feelings for each other.”
You nod your head, humming in understanding and furrowing your brows when Yunjin scoffs, staring straight at you. Her tone is equal parts cutting and loving, so you know she’s not trying to insult you, but don’t know what she means when she says, “It must be so nice to be as oblivious as you.”
Yunjin never elaborates, and you never ask, actually feeling the statement’s journey in through one of your ears and out the other when dinner arrives. The three of you share pizza, ice cream, and secrets — the three pillars of 20-something-teenage-girlhood — at the kitchen table, with Chaewon sitting in your lap and picking pepperoni from your slices.
It’s only hours after Yunijn’s gone home, that her words circle back to you, the statement and all of its weight perching on your chest with all the debilitation and persistence of a sleep paralysis demon.
“I think I’m getting sick,” you say as soon as she opens her door. “It’s been coming on for a while now, at least a week, maybe more.”
Unimpressed and exhausted, Yunjin looks down at you through half-closed eyes. “Do you..” She pinches the bridge of her nose, sighing. “Do you have any idea what time it is right now?”
“Yes. It’s three a.m.”
“Exactly. See a doctor if you’re sick, I’m going back to sleep.”
“This is an emergen—” Yunjin cuts you off by pinching your lips together. “It’s three in the morning,” she reminds you. “You can’t yell like that in my hallway, come in.”
You nod, crossing the threshold and taking off your shoes next to hers. “Sorry,” you whisper when the door is closed.
Using her hand, Yunjin lifts your chin, squinting as her eyes adjust to the light when she flips the switch to inspect your face. “You don’t look or sound sick,” she mutters, flicking the light back off and going to her room. “What are your symptoms? And why did you come here?”
You don’t have an answer for her last question so you ignore it, following her and tripping over a pair of her shoes in the process. “My cheeks start burning like crazy and my heart races, sometimes it gets hard to breathe.”
“You seem fine to me.”
A shoulder-slumping sigh slips from your lips. “That’s the thing. I’ll be fine and then Sunghoon shows up with his pretty smile and perfect hair and I feel like I’ve run a marathon.” You know how it sounds, choosing your wording meticulously to let Yunjin be the one to say the words out loud instead of you—it’ll be easier to confront that way.
From the doorway, you watch as she arches a brow, her interest piqued. “Oh?”
“I know.” You nod, head bobbing rapidly in furious agreement. “It’s only a matter of time before I cough up a lung and die in his bedroom.”
At your words, Yunjin doesn't reply, only lifting her duvet and getting cosy underneath. You feel like you’re glued to the spot, waiting for her to say something, anything, but nothing comes. All she does is pat the empty spot in her bed.
“What are you smirking for?” you ask, entering the room properly and closing the door.
Her response only comes after you’ve taken your jacket and hoodie off, sitting next to her under the covers. “It’s nothing,” she says, laughing.
“Tell me.”
Yunjin sighs, resting a hand gently on your shoulder. You think it’s meant to be comforting but it’s the opposite. “You’ll be fine, I promise. Lovesickness isn’t deadly.”
Feeling the weight of her reassurance, you settle down properly and sigh when your head hits the pillow. Lovesickness. Hmm.
Closing your eyes, you try to sleep but can’t help tossing and turning as Yunjin snores behind you. You pat blindly around the end table for your phone, grabbing it and wincing at the brightness of your screen. Chewing on your lip, you open Google, looking up ‘lovesickness’ and frowning immediately at the results. Endless negativity fills the screen, terrifying words like ‘unrequited love’ forming a pit in your stomach. There’s nothing negative about what you feel for Sunghoon, nothing unrequited—you think.
It was obvious during the trip, painfully so. In the way he’d tuck your hair behind your ear when his parents weren’t there to see, or how he slipped up and called you ‘baby’ in the bathroom, blushing when you said it back. You can’t fake something like that.. Can you?
Yeonjun did.
Shaking your head, you open Instagram to distract yourself. Jake’s story comes up first; he’s at a party where Jay is losing a game of beer pong, and at the other end of the table is Sunghoon grinning with a bright red lipstick kiss on his cheek. You lock your phone, using your hands to press on your belly to stop the stirring.
Oh, you think. Lovesickness.
When you wake up, the first thing you do is check Jake’s story again. The video is still there and that terrible stir in your stomach churns on, burrowing deeply into a pit of canyon-like proportion—so vast there’s a safety railing lining its edges.
You eat breakfast in silence with Yunjin, zoning out mid-chew to figure out the origin of these feelings and how to handle them. Suddenly, the moment hits you clear as day, vivid like you’re watching it on a screen—it was your third night at his parents’ house, after your walk.
You felt bad about how you acted, and what you said, so went straight up to your room. With nothing but the bedside lamp turned on, it was dimly lit, shadows cast on the walls as you sulked, replaying everything in your head. Guilt wrapped its long arms around your body, making you feel sick as you thought about it all. About the hurt etched over his face with every word you said, and the frown that stuck around for the rest of the walk as his hand clung limply to yours.
There was a knock at the door, so gentle you almost missed it, and Sunghoon was standing there when you pulled it open, chewing on his lip with a mug in his hand. Steam skated over the opening, a rich chocolatey smell hitting your nose but the real kicker was the mug itself. In its place on Jake and Sunghoon’s mug tree, it was unassuming, a regular white mug, but upon meeting hot water, the face of young Sunghoon appeared, grinning with his tiny glasses on. It was a gift from one of his old coaches and though he never used it, it was your absolute favourite cup in the world.
You felt soft around the edges when you looked up at him, his eyes wide and unsure as you met his gaze—he brought that mug three hours across the country so you could use it again. The thought shifted your heart into a comfortable position, settling in your chest with overwhelming warmth and an increased rate.
“Hi,” you said, clearing your throat.
“Hi,” he repeated, holding the mug out for you to take. “It’s still hot so be careful.”
Nodding, you covered your hands with your sleeves, taking the cup from him and asking if he wanted to come in. Sunghoon nodded, shutting the door behind him and standing by the bed, watching you set the hot chocolate on the bedside table as you sat down. The two of you stayed like that for a while, with him only moving when you patted the spot next to you on the duvet. Your train of thought escaped you as soon as he sat down, the warmth of his familiar fresh, citrusy scent taking over and becoming the only thing you could register. The smell of summers with him, long days at the beach and short nights spent on the couch at random parties, cuddled into his side with his arm over your shoulders. The smell you’d come to associate with comfort and home—with Sunghoon.
“It’s not fair for me to treat you like shit just because I’m annoyed, I shouldn’t have spoken to you like that earlier. I’m sorry.”
A crease ran over Sunghoon’s thick brows as they tugged together, he shook his head. “You don’t have to apologise. I roped you into this whole thing and didn’t even try to think about how you would feel. I’m sorry.” His eyes carried a mix of regret and sincerity, mirroring the weight of his words.
“Anyway, I only came to bring you that,” he said, pointing at the cup. “And to check up on you, I’ll get out of your hair for tonight.” Sunghoon wiped his palms on his pants before standing up, reaching behind him to pick up the cloth he brought. For a moment, he stood there, staring down at it in his hand while you thought about telling him to stay, telling him that you wanted him in your hair—whatever that meant. But he spoke before you had the chance. “You left this, at mine, after.. well, you know. I’m sure you left it intentionally, I mean it was folded up perfectly on the end of my bed, so I know you did, but it didn’t feel right keeping it, you always wore it more than me.”
Sunghoon extended his hand, holding it out to you and you knew exactly what it was as soon as the fabric touched your skin after so long. It was the shirt Jay bought him for Christmas in first year—they were roommates still trying to get a feel for each other. For a few weeks, Sunghoon had been pestering you about what he should get for Jay, saying it didn’t feel right not to get him anything, and you suggested a targeted t-shirt, one you’d been laughing at all day after seeing an ad for it on your timeline. Sunghoon was sceptical, but bought the red shirt anyway, hoping Jay would find BEING DAD IS AN HONOUR, BEING PAPA IS PRICELESS funny. He did. And Jay bought Sunghoon a targeted shirt too, your favourite. It was black and two sizes too big, with I NEVER DREAMED I’D BE A SEXY FIGURE SKATER BUT HERE I AM KILLING IT written over the chest.
“Goodnight, YN,” Sunghoon said, crossing the room to leave but hesitating before closing the door. He poked his head through the opening and sighed. “I really am sorry.”
That night, you fell asleep in the shirt, the thinning, yet cosy, fabric wrapped around you like a hug as your heart started to beat a new rhythm, one that eerily echoed the five-foot-eleven figure skater who you let break it.
This morning, Yunjin claps her hands in your face, seeming irritated when you look over at her. “You have class in an hour, what are you doing?” Before you have the chance to speak, realisation covers her face. “Oh, the feelings.”
You nod solemnly, too caught up in the butterflies raiding your stomach to come up with something to say.
At lightspeed, you scarf down the rest of your food, apologising for showing up so late as you head out the door. When you get home, you take the fastest shower of your life and feel grateful Chaewon isn’t around to tease you about the smile you can’t wipe from your face thinking about Sunghoon—you’ll text her later.
You run to campus, feeling the brisk autumn wind beating against your face while the rest of your body overheats under your jacket, hoodie and long sleeve. Despite the discomfort and ache in your lungs, you don’t stop until you reach the door of your lecture hall, huffing and puffing into the faces of classmates who don’t take any notice. Of course, in a stroke of pure luck, your lecturer is late, and you realise bitterly, that all of your huffing and puffing was in vain—you would have gotten to class with time to spare even if you walked.
It’s not a total waste though; you use the time to update Chaewon.
you: i have news wonie.. i like sunghoon
wonie: …………….. fork in the kitchen yn what’s the news?
wonie: OHHHH news to YOU.. can i call?
She calls you immediately. You answer without thinking because your lecturer still hasn’t arrived, and there’s no one sitting close enough to hear or notice you taking a call.
“Are you going to tell him?!” Chaewon’s voice is so loud you wince, pulling the phone away from your ear.
“I don’t know.” You shrug even though she can’t see you, still holding the device at a distance just in case. “I don’t have any confirmation that he still.. likes me. It’s been a while, and I was pretty mean that day.
Chaewon groans and you can picture her throwing herself onto her bed, exasperated. The rustling that comes through the receiver only frames the image, hanging it up. “Did you have to tell him to get a grip?”
“You know..” You trail off, chewing on your bottom lip. “In hindsight, probably not.”
A beat passes, she’s thinking. “Don’t worry,” she says. “I’ll help you.”
“I.. have never been so worried in my life.” You sigh, picking at your freshly painted nails. “But I know you’ll do something no matter what I say, so do what you want, Wonie, but please be subtle about it.”
Chaewon squeals down the phone. “I love youuuuu!” And it’s the last thing she says before kissing the mic a few times and hanging up.
Slumping in your seat, you don’t have any time to stress about Chaewon’s plans because your lecturer walks in, with a travel cup in her hand and a paperback tucked under her arm.
She apologises for being late, running a hand through her hair as she announces that you’ll be watching a film, an adaptation of a book you read at the start of term—Ian McEwan’s Atonement. You spend the first hour of the movie falling in and out of sleep until a text comes through from Sunghoon, and sheer excitement keeps you up.
hoonie: Wanna study together after class?
you: of course!!!!!!
hoonie: 🤍
The rest of the movie goes by in a drag, and you come away from it with a mild irritation towards Saoirse Ronan.
you: class just finished, heading to lib rn
hoonie: Shit, still in the locker room, sorry !!! Omw, can you get a table?
you: i’ll try..
It takes a while but you find an empty booth on the second floor, and set your bag on the plush green seat to take pictures of your surroundings to send to Sunghoon. You sit on the side facing the stairs so he can see you when he arrives. The thought of seeing him makes your heart race and you try out a few natural-seeming poses for when he’s here, cycling between resting your palm under your chin and sitting with your arms crossed a few times until the top of his head comes into view.
Seeing him knocks the wind out of you as he approaches the staircase, taking them two at a time with his damp hair clinging to his forehead and neck. It doesn’t help that he’s wearing a tight black vest, and his sweats are hanging low on his hips. A breath you didn’t realise you were holding slips out when he lifts his head, spotting you immediately as a grin spreads over his lips and he raises his arm to wave, the veins in his forearm peeking out to say hi too. You can’t tell if it’s his lack of winter wardrobe or your newfound appreciation for him that’s making his biceps look so huge but it’s hard to look away, even when he reaches the table.
“Are you hot?” you blurt out.
Sunghoon laughs, raising a brow and something about the way he’s looking down at you makes your cheeks burn. “Depends who’s asking.” He takes his backpack off, leaving it on the table as he sits down, dumping his jacket and hoodie in a pile beside him.
“I’m asking,” you mumble.
“Then, yeah, I’d hope so.”
Is he flirting? It sounds like he’s flirting. Flirt back! “Nice arms.”
He looks down at his biceps for a beat before looking at you warily. “Are you flirting with me?” He can’t fight the smile twitching at the corners of his lips but he tries his best, pressing them into a straight line.
“A little. They are nice though,” you admit.
Sunghoon grins. “Thanks, I’ve had them for a while now.”
You can’t come up with anything to say, too distracted by the way his smile reaches his eyes, lighting up his whole face and forcing a flustered heat to spread over your cheeks and neck. It’s only when you look away from him that you remember what you’re here for. It’s a study date, not a study date—there’s a difference.
You hand Sunghoon the material you’d printed for him over the weekend, excerpts from texts you’d studied in class, so he can practise close reading and proper citation. As he makes his way through them, you can’t help stealing glances, smiling at the way his tongue sticks out a little while he focuses, or how he twirls his pen in his fingers while he’s thinking. You aren’t making the best use of your time together, copying out the slides from class yesterday, but you can’t help noticing the way he watches you when he thinks you can’t see. The small smile on his face while he does so only flusters you, an odd weakness settling in your knees as your cheeks heat up.
After a while, Sunghoon sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Could you stop watching me?”
“If you noticed me watching, that means you’re watching me.”
He shrugs, chewing on his lip. “Well, yeah. I’m always watching you,” he says like it’s a given. “But you don’t normally watch back, it’s distracting.”
“You’re distracting.”
A playful smile curves his lips as he arches a brow, smugness painting his face. “Am I?”
Too scared to verbalise your response, you nod slowly, hoping you don’t look as wound up as you feel.
Sunghoon’s eyes flick over your face, flashing with something you don’t recognise. At least not from him. He sits back in his seat, assessing you and eventually shaking his head.
“You know,” he says, eyes glowing with something you do recognise: cockiness. “If my sexy arms are getting to you that much, I can always put my hoodie back on. Wouldn’t want my little tutor getting distracted, would I?”
Oh.
Your stomach turns with want, mind reeling from his tone and the way his gaze lands on your lips. Sighing, you roll your eyes and try to seem unaffected. “Sunghoon, I never said your arms were sexy.”
His phone starts to go off, buzzing against the table and he turns it over immediately, screen down on the surface as he shifts his focus back to his work. He chews on his lip while he does, eyes flicking back and forth between his phone and the words on the page. Curious, you lean over the table, elbows propped up as you rest your chin in your hands. He doesn’t spare you or his phone, which vibrates another four times, a glance.
“Are you going to get that?”
Sunghoon shakes his head. “It’s nothing.”
You hum, letting just enough curiosity seep into the sound that he’ll elaborate without being asked to. It doesn’t take long for him to deliver.
“It’s just Chaewon,” he says, running his hand through his hair and lifting his head. Sunghoon smiles. “We’ve been texting a lot these days.”
“Cool.” You nod a few times, aiming for nonchalance but hitting bobblehead as you wait for him to continue. He doesn’t, only humming in response, nodding too.
After a beat, he picks up his phone, angling it just high enough that you can’t see the screen. He reads the messages, an exhaled laugh coming from his nose as the tips of his ears redden—Fuck. This is worse than you thought.
Chaewon’s commitment to girl code runs deep—she’s been rebuffing Jake since first year when she overheard a girl she’d never seen before telling her friends she thought he was cute. So you know without having to read the texts that nothing she’s saying is even remotely flirty, you can smell the auto-caps and use of the word ‘buddy’ from across the table.
What you hadn’t counted on, however, was the potential for Sunghoon’s feelings to shift. If they really have been texting more, can you rule out the possibility that he might like.. her? Chaewon is a catch, beyond a catch, and you’d already turned Sunghoon down. Brutally. Of course, he’d move on, he has moved on.
The rest of the study session is spent manifesting, writing Park Sunghoon over and over in the back of your notebook. You fill three pages while brainstorming ways to snatch a lock of his hair until he suggests that the two of you call it a day. He walks you home, telling you about how Jake’s been bribing him with food to get a ride to the LEGO store across town for the new Marvel set.
“With or without the meals, I would’ve taken him, but his ramen is my favourite, so..” Sunghoon says, climbing the last step of your building and holding the door open for you. “He even brought a slice of tiramisu to the rink for me after practice.”
“You’re terrible,” you say, frowning up at him as you search for your keys. “Do you want to come in?”
Sunghoon chuckles, shaking his head. “I have a meeting with one of my lecturers soon, I’d have to leave in—” He pauses, rolling up the sleeve of his jacket to check the time. “—eight minutes.”
“I’m cool with that if you are,” you mumble, suddenly shy.
A bright smile spreads over his lips and he nods, following you in.
Chilled by the harsh wind, the only thing on your mind is a hot drink as you lead Sunghoon to the kitchen. He shakes his head when you offer him one, sitting on the countertop and exhaling into his palms before rubbing them together. You can’t help but frown at the sight, feeling guilty that you can’t change the weather to suit him. At your thought process, your brows raise. Wow, you think. Is this who you are?
You busy yourself with the selection of hot drinks you and Chaewon have accumulated, eyeing each container from top to bottom. A purple tub of Cadbury’s hot chocolate that you’re sure is on the brink of expiration, coffee—sachets of the instant stuff you’ve grown to like since leaving home, Earl grey from one of many brands, or the fancy silk tea bags Chaewon’s mum brought home from a trip—rooibos or plum-apple-cinnamon.
Craving something sweet, you settle for hot chocolate, pulling the heavy container from the cupboard next to Sunghoon’s head and setting it beside your cup. He’s on his phone, scrolling too fast to take in anything he’s seeing and he shakes his head when you ask if he wants something to drink.
On the dish rack, Chaewon’s mug catches your eye, so you pick it up to dry it off and put it down next to yours. “I’m going to check if Wonie wants any,” you say, wiping imaginary crumbs from the counter onto the floor.
Sunghoon only clears his throat, shaking his head. “She’s not home, one of her acrylics popped off so she’s at the shop waiting for a cancellation.”
The information itself isn’t jarring but hearing it from Sunghoon is. You put on what you hope is a neutral smile and nod, taking milk from the fridge and assembling your drink on autopilot while thinking of ways to redirect the conversation.
“If you knew you’d have to go back to campus so soon, why’d you walk me home?” you ask, watching your cup spin in the microwave. “I could’ve walked on my own.”
Sunghoon is already looking at you when you turn your head, his cheeks puffed out with air as he blinks slowly. Because I love you, is what you hope he’ll say. You think you need him to say it.
“Because you don’t have to do anything on your own when you have me,” he says instead, and it’s infinitely better.
The words seep through your every fibre, his intonation and lucid affection making a home for themselves in your heart, spreading warmth from head to toe. Your smile becomes a radiant grin, only brightening when he shakes his head, smiling down at his feet.
Sunghoon hugs you in the kitchen when it’s time for him to leave, his arms holding you tight to his chest as he rocks you back and forth. You inhale his scent, all warm citrus under freshly washed cotton and something exclusive to him.
Wiping the smile from your face feels impossible. You don’t let go when he does, and a sweet laugh — a giggle, you think — tumbles out of him as he mumbles that he really has to go. Still, you cling onto him, taking clumsy steps backwards, with your arms locked around his waist, to your front door, smiling as you watch him put his shoes on.
“You don’t have to walk me downstairs, honestly,” he says, looking down at you in the doorway.
“I want to.”
His lips quirk up at the corners, a full smile breaking through and causing your stomach to flutter with so much force you’re sure it’s visible through your shirt. His eyes fall to your lips, lingering, before he clears his throat, looking away.
“I’ll text you when I get to the door, promise.”
You lock your pinky with his. “Send a selfie, just so I know it’s you and not someone else using your phone.”
Sunghoon’s head falls back in a laugh. “Should I just call you? That way you can make sure I get back to uni in one piece.”
You nod.
“That wasn’t anything with Chaewon earlier, I just needed advice on some girl stuff..” He trails off, searching your eyes. It’s obvious that he’s telling the truth, that he wants you to believe him. You do. “I wasn’t sure if that was something I could talk about with you.”
Girl stuff. Hmm. You try not to read too much into it and look at the bigger picture instead—your best friend is going through something and doesn’t feel like he can come to you about it.. You squeeze his pinky reassuringly, a flutter in your stomach when he smiles.
“You can talk to me about anything,” you say, meaning it.
Sunghoon presses his lips together, humming and unlinking your fingers. “Next time,” he says after a beat, waving at you.
You shut the door, locking it while watching through the peephole, he leaves as soon as the lock clicks shut. In the kitchen, your hot chocolate is cooling down, and your phone rings in your back pocket. Sunghoon’s calling.
Hanging out with Sunghoon. Making sure he sticks to the time-blocked schedule you made for him. Quizzing him on biology terms until he gets restless. If the last two weeks were an episode of Family Feud, those would be the top three answers to the question: Name something YN is doing right now.
Thankfully tonight, it’s the first one.
You’ve been sitting on the couch for so long, Jake has both left for football practice and arrived from football practice. Conversation ebbs and flows—an hour or so of nonstop talking, followed by another hour or so of comfortable near silence.
It’s during a quiet hour that Sunghoon sits up straight, clearing his throat before saying, “Let me ask you something. He retreats to the other side of the couch, turning to face you with his whole body. “I don’t want things to be weird after I ask, so no matter what your answer is, I won’t bring it up or ask again.”
Arching a curious brow, you nod. “You can ask me anything,” you say, meaning it.
Sunghoon’s face is impressively blank—minus the motion of sharp teeth worrying plush lip, there’s absolutely nothing behind his eyes that seem to stare right through you.
Eventually, he asks, “Can I kiss you?” He says more. Big, scary words like for closure and moving on, but they don’t register. They don’t matter.
Your heart pounds at the base of your throat as you find interest in your hands that sit in your lap. Even without looking at him, you can’t get over the slight crease he had in his brow and the slight tremor in his hands.
“For closure,” you repeat, though your voice doesn’t sound like it’s coming from you, muffled under the thump of your heart.
Sunghoon nods. “For closure.”
A humourless laugh sneaks past your throat as you look at him. You shouldn’t have. In the lamplight, Sunghoon is golden and glorious. Warm light casts one side of his face, diffusing gently over the steep slope of his nose, highlighting his moles and the look in his eyes, gentle and curious all at once. Unwillingly, your gaze falls to his lips, parted, tempting.
One firm nod of your head brings Sunghoon’s hand to your face, his palm cupping your cheek with soft skin as his thumb traces your cheekbone. You grow anxious under his stare, under the drag of his eyes over your features, taking them one at a time like he’s committing them to memory.
Leaning in, your eyes flutter shut as your lips meet his and he freezes, mouth completely still on yours. Delicately, your tongue traces the seam of his lips, soft and plump, until they part for you, moving with yours. Sunghoon’s kiss is unpolished when it reaches you. It’s hesitant but tender, clumsy but sweet, he’s trying and he’s perfect; your favourite.
The kiss is.. it’s everything. It’s the racing of your heart, the thudding, the vibrant buzz you can hear, feel humming against your ears. It’s a rush of blood to the head, a lightness all over that pulls you out of your body. It’s Sunghoon’s soft lips curving into a smile against yours, his gentle hold on your face never letting up as he holds you as close as he can manage, and it’s every bit as lovely as the rest of him.
Palpable is the heartbeat of your friendship, beating to a lull under the surface of the kiss, fizzling out into nothing, a steady silence, flatlining to give way to something more, something bigger.
Every brush of your lips against his is a revelation, a confession. You’re all I’ve ever wanted, you tell him with your kiss. You’re everything I need. His free hand finds yours, locking your fingers and squeezing, the action timed well enough to make you think he hears you, to make you think he’s saying, we’ll be okay, I still love you.
With that, he pulls away, a delicate tension piercing the air. Blown eyes and laboured breathing—he’s beautiful, fuzzy around the edges with warm orange and all of the love in your heart. Breathless, you chew on your lip, cognisant of Sunghoon’s hand in yours and the sparkle in his eyes as he looks at you.
Belatedly, you squeeze his hand back, smiling. “Was it everything you ever dreamed of?” you whisper, part teasing, all curious.
Abruptly, Sunghoon stands up, letting go of you in the process. “I have to go.”
You want to stop him, you think you’re supposed to. To grab him by the arm and kiss him again, to yell in his face that you love him until he understands. But you don’t. Instead, you stay seated, staring at Sunghoon’s back and following him with your eyes out of the room and down the hall until he’s out of sight.
It’s your first time being so upset after a kiss, and you can’t tell if it’s his leaving or the mention of him moving on that’s tripping you up so much. That’s causing melancholy to crawl from the shadows, sinking its jagged nails into your skin to pull you under.
You love him. He’s gone.
Eyes stuck on the doorway, time stretches over the room around you, thick and malleable, wet and cloying—clay stuck under your nails for days as the fire in the kiln rages on.
Sighing, you get up and wait at his door. You ball your hand into a limp fist, knocking weakly. Sunghoon doesn’t reply. You try again, harder. Still nothing.
Barging into the room, you find him sitting on the end of his bed with his face in his hands.
“Don’t move on.” The words come out before you realise and Sunghoon lifts his head, squinting at you.
“Huh?” He tilts his head, watching closely as you approach him, tipping it back enough to meet your eyes when you stand over him.
You take a breath, holding it until your head starts to spin. “I don’t want you to love someone else, Sunghoon. Please don’t move on.”
The stillness that follows is disconcerting, a long quiet you can feel on your skin, amplifying the blank stare on his face as he looks up at you. His eyes flash, a spark of hope behind them so bright it stings to look at.
“Do you..” He trails off, his lips moving to form the next word though stopping short.
“I do,” you whisper, nodding. “I’m sorry for taking so long.”
An exhaled laugh comes from his nose as he grins, shaking his head. “You like me?” he asks, excitement and disbelief fighting for authority over his voice, his hands holding your waist and pulling you down into his lap.
“I love you,” you admit, settling on his thighs.
“You do?” His eyes are wide and gleaming, searching every feature on your face before settling on your own.
You nod. “So much.”
Sunghoon’s chin tips up, his lips pressing against yours, excited pecks that can’t turn into much more for the smiles on your faces. You rest your arms on his shoulders, hands clasping behind his head, nervous fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.
“So.. will you be my boyfriend? For real?”
Tilting his head, he tries and fails to fight a smile. “I will. I’m a little bummed though.”
“Why?” You raise a brow, and the word tips up at the end with it.
“I wanted to be the one to ask you.” Sunghoon’s honesty warms the room, endearing you completely.
You grin, loving the heat spreading over your cheeks. “Ask me anyway.”
“Please can I be your boyfriend?”
In the weeks that followed, it became immediately clear that boyfriend Sunghoon operated on a pendulum swinging between sexual ferality and terror. He’d get distracted during study sessions at home, finding more interest in biting at your neck than stream-of-consciousness prose, but closed his eyes if a sex scene came on TV. He’d buck his hips against yours while making out but flinch at the sight of condoms in the store.
He wasn’t ready to have sex and didn’t know how to tell you, so you took matters into your own hands, asking if you could wait until after his results for resubmission came in, saying you didn’t want the distraction for either of you. Sunghoon agreed, pecking your cheek and holding you tight to his chest.
The only thing was that your lecturer hadn’t given him an exact date, so every morning, you held your phone in a vice grip waiting for Sunghoon to update you, and every morning, you got the same text: Nothing today, baby ☹️
This morning, you’re brushing your teeth when he texts you, in all caps: NO FUCKING WAY I GOT A 98 !!! LOOK !!!
When the picture comes through, it’s of him in the mirror and you choke on mouthwash at the sight. He’s smiling, bright and beautiful, in a black vest that he’s holding up a little to show his stomach, though his palm is in the way of his toned abs, and it cuts off right at the top of his grey sweatpants.
Your mouth goes dry as you click on it, fixating on every little detail you can find: the thickness of his fingers against his phone, the dip in his collarbones, the breadth of his shoulders and the cinch of his waist. In a fit of desperation, you try swiping at the bottom of your screen, willing the picture to magically extend. It doesn’t.
hoonie: Finger slipped.. You like?
you: mm..
you: 98??? HOLY SHIT, LOOK AT YOU!!!
hoonie: All you.. do you like the picture?
you: i love it………….
hoonie: My girl 🤍
Another picture comes in, and sure enough, through the glare of his laptop screen, you see: Course name: The Modernist Movement: Joyce, Woolf, and Hemingway. Marks Awarded: 98.0.
you: well done baby !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
hoonie: Thx 😁
hoonie: Can I have my prize now ha ha .. haha 😈
you: just for that emoji, no you absolutely cannot.
Your resolve isn’t strong enough when it comes to Sunghoon, because purple devil emoji and all, you show up at his door with condoms in your bag and a bouquet of lilies behind your back.
The door creaks open and Sunghoon greets you with a grin. “Hey, gorgeous. You proud of me?”
You beam at him, holding out the flowers. “I’m very proud, Hoon, well done.”
“I don’t want to ruin the moment,” he starts, taking the bouquet from your hands and sniffing the flowers with an approving smile. “But hearing you say you’re proud of me is awakening something I didn’t know existed.”
“A good something?”
“Mm,” he hums, arms finding your waist before he pecks your lips. “A very good something.”
Sunghoon’s words hit your lips and your core, a desperate heat flooding your stomach as he kisses you deeply, his body pressed tightly against yours while he pulls you into his apartment. He kicks the door shut with his foot, slipping his hand under your jacket to settle in your back pocket, not quite squeezing but holding your ass as gently as he can manage.
He breaks away from you, love in his eyes as he stares down into yours, catching his breath. “I don’t think we own a vase.”
In his kitchen, you rifle through cupboards to find something to hold the flowers, eventually finding a whiskey decanter in the cupboard under the sink, and holding it up for Sunghoon to see.
“Oh, yeah,” he says. “It’s Jay’s. It’ll work right?”
You nod, taking it to the sink to rinse it. Sunghoon wraps his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder watching you fill the decanter with water and flower food before grabbing the bouquet. He presses open-mouthed kisses to your neck and you struggle to stay focused as you cut down the stems on the flowers, arranging them neatly.
“Can I take a photo?” he asks when you’re done.
He’s smiling when you turn around to look at him, a soft curve of his lips that makes your heart race, a deep tenderness in his eyes when you meet them. You smile too.
“They’re yours, baby, do whatever you want.”
“A photo of you with the flowers,” he clarifies.
Warmth settles in your chest, a grin spreading over your lips from ear to ear. You nod, taking the decanter in your hands when he lets go of you, holding the flowers up beside your face and smiling for his camera. As his phone shutter clicks away, you steal glances at his face behind it. He’s watching the screen with a smile, telling you how beautiful you are.
“I want pictures of you too,” you say, handing the flowers over.
“I’m yours, baby, do whatever you want.”
Sunghoon poses for your photos, smiling sweetly in some and sniffing the bouquet appreciatively with closed eyes for others. He’s glowing and he’s beautiful and your heart triples in size while taking picture after picture until your phone tells you it has ten percent.
“Thank you, YN,” he says. “I’ve never gotten flowers before, I love them.” His arms settle around your waist, lips pressing against yours before you have the chance to respond.
You try anyway, mumbling against his lips that you love him. In response, Sunghoon grins, but the feeling of his cock growing hard against you is distracting, a lust-coated thorn in the side of the butterflies fluttering in your stomach. With locked lips and uncertain steps, the two of you bump into corners and trip over your own feet, stumbling to his room and parting only to tear his hoodie over his head.
Breathless, you pull away, eyes trailing over him and picking up on everything, from the tremble in his hands to the lust-addled worry in his eyes. He’s nervous, you think—though it escapes you, the last word coming out like a question.
Sunghoon scoffs, his hands resting on your waist under your shirt, skin clammy against yours. “Of course, I’m nervous.”
“You don’t have to be.”
“I just want to be good for you.”
“Don’t worry about that, let me take care of you, Hoon.” Your palms drag up his torso — firm abs through soft cotton, defined chest over racing heart — to rest on his shoulders. “Sit,” you say when he nods.
He gulps, taking a seat on the end of his bed under your gentle push, eyes widening when you sink to your knees between his legs and reach for his drawstring, pulling the ends to untie the knot.
“Wait,” Sunghoon says, breathless, scrunching up his face and dropping his head. “Let me calm down, baby. At this rate, I’ll come just seeing your hand on it.”
You giggle, resting your head on his thigh and wrapping the drawstring around your finger.
“I’m serious, YN,” he mumbles, laughing as he takes his vest off. “I need a minute.”
Sunghoon’s eyes are pressed shut as he tries to collect himself, lips pouty and kiss-bitten, slightly parted with ragged breaths slipping out. You wait patiently for him. He’s so pretty like this, with the crease in his brow and the pretty pink flush dusting his cheeks as his chest rises and falls. You can’t help but smile, leaning into his touch when his hand rests on top of your head, his blunt nails grazing your scalp. After a while, he seems more at ease, his eyes finding yours and he smiles shyly, telling you he’s ready now and lifting his hips from the bed to let you pull his sweats and underwear down.
Free from the constraints of fabric, his cock slaps his stomach with a wet sound as the tip meets his skin, leaving a pearlescent streak over his abs. The sight makes your mouth water and you can’t look away. “Pretty,” you whisper.
Wrapping a hand under his tip, you swipe it with your thumb, taking time to memorise the flutter of his eyelids, the bobbing of his Adam’s apple, and the soft sigh he lets out. You stroke him slowly, liking the way his breath picks up as his brows knit together before you take him in your mouth. It’s a tight fit but you do your best, spurred on by the way he tugs at your hair and stutters through a holy fuck as you take as much of him as you can.
Sunghoon goes silent, only squirming when you use your hand to stroke him near his base. Self-conscious about his lack of vocal affirmation, you look up at him through your lashes, and the pure bliss on his face is unbearably attractive. His eyes are rolled back under furrowed brows, his mouth hanging open as he throws his head back.
“Am I doing okay?” you ask, using the moment to catch your breath.
He nods, inhaling shakily and screwing his eyes shut while his hips buck up into your fist. “I’m.. You’re doing such a good job, baby, so good.”
Satisfaction courses through you from the praise, a high that dulls the ache in your jaw. Still watching him, you massage his balls in your palm, pressing open-mouthed kisses to his tip when he whines. You tongue at his slit until he thrusts back into your mouth, tip hitting your throat, and he gasps when you gag, his arm coming up to cover his eyes. A belated apology slips from his lips, mumbled as he strokes your hair with a shaking hand and goes quiet again. When you speed up, his breath stutters, the muscles in his thighs contracting around your head as you suck and lick and drool on his cock.
A moan of your name, and his hand holding your hand down, are the only warnings you get before Sunghoon comes, spilling his load right down your throat. Whining, his hips buck up against your face, pushing further and further until he falls back onto the mattress.
Your throat is hoarse and aches while you use the back of your hand to wipe at your lips, enjoying what’s left of his taste on your tongue. Deep red tints his neck and chest, a pretty flush gleaming under the sheen of sweat on his skin. He’s mesmerising, as he tries for air through swollen lips and looks up at you through squinted eyes. He reaches for you, cute grabby hands tugging your shirt and pulling you down so you’re lying next to him with your head on his chest.
“You’re amazing, baby, so good for me,” Sunghoon whispers, eyes fluttering shut as you drag your nails over his torso, feeling the subtle heave of the slick, sculpted muscle over his stomach and chest.
Pride heats your chest, satisfaction rolling over you like a wave. “Really?”
He hums in affirmation, nodding his head.
“You were so quiet, I couldn’t really tell,” you add, hungry for more praise.
“The walls are so thin in here, I just got used to being quiet,” Sunghoon says, frowning. Hand meeting your chin, he tips your head up towards him, pressing a soft kiss to your lips and mumbling, “I’m sorry. You were perfect, I swear.”
It’s a sweet kiss. Until lips move harder and hands get lower, desperate as he thumbs the top of your leggings, palm unmoving but a dangerous heat blooms in your stomach anyway.
“Can I..” Sunghoon pinches you softly through the material, unsure eyes boring deep into yours.
You nod. “You can.”
Slipping under your waistband, his fingers skate across your skin dipping between your thighs. He grazes your slit, satisfaction clear in the groan he lets out as he feels the wetness there, pulling it over the length of your slit to cover your clit. Your breath hitches, a strangled gasp, pleasure and surprise meeting in your throat under the pressure of his thumb on your clit, the gentle sting of his finger pushing into you.
What Sunghoon lacks in experience, he makes up for with the sheer length and thickness of his fingers. It’s almost jarring, it’s enough to force your eyes closed and bring a sigh rumbling out of you, ache and relief settling between your legs, where he curls a finger against your walls and drags slow circles over your clit.
“Can you take these off, baby?” he asks, hand away to touch your leggings.
You don’t waste a second, sitting up to pull them off, throwing them and your underwear across the room. Sunghoon licks his lips, tugging at the hem of your shirt.
“And this? If you want..”
You nod, pulling it off immediately to let it join the rest of your clothes in a heap on the floor. The way he gulps is a confidence boost, his dilated pupils taking in every inch of your body, though his gaze always pulls back to your bra—white and lacy, thin enough for your nipples to push through the fabric and Sunghoon can’t seem to get enough, though he waits until you’re lying down again to touch you.
Sunghoon props himself up on his elbow, leaning over you. “You’re beautiful,” he whispers, dragging a finger over the lace at the top of your bra, toying with the material and the little bow sitting between your breasts. His eyes flick up to meet yours. “So beautiful,” he repeats.
Hiding your face in his chest, you mumble, “Thank you,” into his skin while trying to ignore the heat spreading over your body wherever he touches you. His hand trails from your arm to your waist, resting on your hips to slip over your ass for a beat, where he grabs and squeezes the flesh there before coming back around to slot between your legs—you lift one of them, resting it over his body, and he’s smiling sweetly when you look up at him.
Sunghoon’s movements are unchanging, though the sensation is heightened by the unbridled desire in his lidded eyes that urges white heat to lick over every inch of your skin—this time he pushes two fingers into you.
It doesn’t get better than this, you think. But it does, quickly.
Leaning over you, his eyes flick across your face, one feature at a time as he chews on his lip. Reaching up, you push some of his hair from his face, holding it back and saying, “Relax, baby.”
“Don’t want to hurt you.”
Moving your hand, you blink when his hair flops back over his forehead, tickling your eyelashes. His eyes are focused now, staring straight down into yours, want and worry flashing behind them.
“You won’t, I promise,” you say, locking your pinky with his, feeling relieved when he smiles.
Sunghoon pushes in slowly, his name slipping from your lips when he exhales shakily, head falling forward. The sting, the pleasure, make it hard to breathe, molten desire taking hold of your lungs as he carves out a place for himself as far as you’ll take him, all the way to the hilt as slow as he can manage.
A moan tears out of him, lewd and whiny as his hair tickles your collarbone, head falling into the crook of your neck. His skin is hot and damp against yours, his breath burning your shoulder as he tries to calm down. It’s difficult to register much else, tethered only by the sound of his voice when he asks, “Am I hurting you?”
“Hoon,” you whisper.
“Can you look at me, baby?” He lifts his head, resting a hand on your cheek. You blink your eyes open, gaze locking with his, where concern pushes through his desire. “Am I hurting you?” he asks again. “Are you okay?”
You nod. “I’m okay, just..” You sigh. “Full. Need a minute.”
Sunghoon kisses you, lips moving gently with yours, passing breathy whines between your mouths until you feel yourself relaxing. Pulling his plush bottom lip between yours, you suck on it, nodding. “Want you to move, baby,” you mumble.
He scans your face, eyes meeting yours as he pulls his hips back. He’s slow, so slow with his thrusts that your belly turns with want, your fingernails sink into the taut skin of his back, and jagged sobs fall out of you with each drag of his cock along your walls.
Everywhere his skin touches yours is set ablaze with scorching heat, goosebumps pushing past the surface as his breath fans your neck and his sharp teeth graze your skin. He bites hard enough to sting, and you wince as his tongue flicks over your bitten flesh to soothe you.
You were so worked up earlier, writhing against the sheets and coming undone in his palm, so bliss quickly pushes through the ache between your legs. “Good, Hoon, feels so good,” you manage, struggling to convey how perfect it is.
“Just want to make you feel good.” His words melt into each other, vowels soft and elongated as they curl around each other. He’s working up a steady rhythm, his tip consistently nudging you where you need it—the spot that makes the room blur around you. “That’s all I want.”
Before long, the knot in your stomach pulls you up from the mattress, arching your back towards the ceiling. Mouth to mouth, chest to chest—it’s the closest you’ve ever felt to someone else, the closest you’ve ever been. The thought alone knocks the wind out of you, and his persistent whining does nothing to help.
Your want and adoration for Sunghoon run bone-deep, inching up your spine and creeping over your shoulders, intertwined with an all-consuming pleasure that turns the heat in your stomach molten as a shudder zips through you. Even though you can’t find the words to let him know, he lifts your hips from the bed to fuck you deeper, harder, into the mattress until shaky orgasms pull both of you under.
You let him fall into you, fingers curling around his hair, whispering I love you into the skin of his neck as he comes, most of his weight on top of you while you catch your breath, relishing in the fullness you feel as the last waves of your high pull back. You stay like this for as long as he needs, his head coming up from the crook of your neck to smile at you before pressing his lips to yours. A sleepy haze fills the room around you, tongue swiping tongue as you giggle happily into his mouth.
After a while, he gets up, tying the condom to throw it away and comes back with his shirt. He uses it to clean up—gentle between your legs, pressing kisses to your calves while he does. Sunghoon’s tenderness wraps around your heart, and love clouds your vision, forming a blurry trail that follows all of his movements, glowing like something from a dream, ethereal, an apparition.
The bed dips beside you, his arms around you, pulling you in so his chin rests on your head. You push your cheek into his chest, hoping the two of you will meld into one—the thought makes you warm all over, a fuzziness that reaches every part of your body while he presses kisses into your hair, rubbing your back.
“I love you,” he says, voice as soft as the rest of him. “I’m glad I exist.”
mama park: Hi lovely 😍 missing you lots, wondering when you’ll be home for Xmas………..love ma
Sunghoon stirs, nose scrunching as he snores softly into the quiet of a winter morning. His chest rises and falls steadily under your head and he doesn’t move when you sit up. The lamp on his desk is still on — neither of you could be bothered getting up to turn it off last night — and under its dim glow, you admire him. Perfect lips gently curved—long lashes kissing the skin under his eyes.
Love hits you from all angles, warmth all over from head to toe despite the chill in Sunghoon’s room. You can’t help but grin, leaning up to nose along the underside of his chin, his natural scent so soft yet dizzying as you nuzzle into him. He stirs again, turning his head this way and that before resting, you feel a bit bad, deciding to leave him be and text his mum back.
you: hi mum !!! missing you sooooooo much :((( will be home asap
mama park: BTW Sunghoon told me everything. I raised such good actors LOL make sure he looks after you and keeps you happy!
you: i’m so sorry we lied to you..
you: but i’m really happy with him and he loves me a lot
you: i love him so much .. never been so sure of anyone in my life
© zreamy (2023), all rights reserved. do not repost, translate, or plagiarise my work. do let my know your thoughts !
permanent taglist: @asahicore
#sunghoon smut#enhypen smut#enha smut#enhypen scenarios#sunghoon scenarios#sunghoon x reader#park sunghoon smut#park sunghoon x reader#enhypen imagines#enhypen oneshots#sunghoon oneshots#sunghoon imagines#enhypen hard hours#fic.sunghoon
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˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪𝒎𝒐𝒖𝒔𝒆 ➸ 𝒓𝒆𝒎𝒖𝒔 𝒍𝒖𝒑𝒊𝒏 ˖ ࣪⭑ ˖ ࣪
𓏲 ࣪₊♡𓂃 𝑨𝑵𝑶𝑵𝒀𝑴𝑶𝑼𝑺 𝑨𝑺𝑲𝑬𝑫: hi! can i please request a remus x reader in which the reader has always had a huge crush on him, but thought the feelings were unrequited? she lets the secret slip to lily & marlene and somehow it gets back to remus who finds it very endearing and teases her a bit?
𝑾𝑨𝑹𝑵𝑰𝑵𝑮𝑺: shy!reader, playful teasing, the pet name mouse, some suggestive dialogue but nothing explicit.
𝑺𝑼𝑴𝑴𝑨𝑹𝒀: the reader has always had a huge crush on remus. the girls find out and marlene accidentally lets it get back to remus.
𝑨/𝑵: thank you for your request, lovely anon! i’ve luckily got a few requests that i’m working on, so thank you all for being patient with me. i also want to say thank you for all of the love on my last post! i was very nervous about my first post and i received so much love and support! requests are still open, and as always feedback is greatly appreciated!
𝑾𝑶𝑹𝑫 𝑪𝑶𝑼𝑵𝑻: 4.1k 𓂃♡₊⭑
·͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺
“morning, mouse.”
there’s a teasing touch to remus’s voice as he slides into the seat beside you. you glance at him out of the side of your eye as you take your potions textbook out of your bag, placing it gently on the table. a huff leaves your lips.
“are you lot ever gonna let that go?” you frown, crossing your arms as you turn to him.
there’s a soft smile playing on his lips, and a chuckle from sirius behind him as he joins the pair of you at the table.
“never gonna forget the look on mcgonagall’s face when she turned around,” says sirius brightly. you scowl at him, wanting to wipe the stupid amused grin right off of his face.
“shut up,” you say.
“it wasn’t so bad. you had a rather cute little snout…” remus touches a finger to the tip of his nose, his smile slowly changing from gentle to a rather shit-eating one.
“oh come on, how many people can say they turned themselves into a mouse, y/n? takes proper skill to cast a spell without realizing your wand is turned the wrong way.”
your face flushes pink. “i–i was distracted!” you defend.
“distracted, that’s right… chatting away to moony and casting spells at the same time. how’ve you gone this long without blowing yourself to pieces?”
you stick your tongue out at him, shoving his shoulder and laughing as he tumbles halfway off of his seat. he catches himself, making a face as he regains his spot.
“watch yourself, black,” you threaten. “how’d you like to be a dog permanently?”
“double check you’ve your wand turned the right way ‘round this time, yeah?”
there’s a thumping noise as you backhand his arm, and he winces dramatically.
“all right, you two,” says remus, voice amused. “slughorn’s here.”
chastised, you and sirius settle into your seats. the chattering of the rest of the class settles, and professor slughorn directs you to open your books to the correct chapter. you shift in your seat, glancing over at remus as he gathers his potions ingredients. his elbow nudges yours as he adjusts his cauldron.
“sorry, mouse,” he says offhandedly. though you insist you hate the silly nickname, the sound of him saying it makes your stomach do a little flip. your neck and ears burn, but you say nothing, instead focusing on the task at hand. sirius is distracted by james mouthing something at him across the classroom, which has caught lily’s attention as well. her gaze catches you for a second, and you hope she’s too far away to see the flustered expression decorating your features as you scramble to start on your potion.
invested in your textbook, you don’t notice when james makes his way over to your table, peering into your cauldrons as he returns from the class stores, having run out of one of his ingredients. “wonder why old sluggy’s got us brewing beautification potions,” he comments, making a face as he peers from sirius’s potion to remus’s.
“probably heard about y/n’s incident in transfiguration,” said sirius slyly, nudging your shoulder. your mouth falls open as james laughs.
“pads,” remus warns, throwing him a sharp glance.
sirius’s clear eyes dart between you and remus, and he holds his hands up in surrender. “sorry,” he says, “didn’t mean it, honest. y’know i think you’re fit, y/n.” he flashes a smile, turning on the charm.
you roll your eyes. “you’re a right git, you know that?”
“oh, come on. i’d have snogged the lights out of you by now if lily didn’t have her bloody rules,” he continues, back to his potion. james sniggering laugh fades as he returns to his table with lily and peter.
“‘m going to pretend i didn’t hear that,” says remus.
“likewise,” you agree, an incredulous laugh bubbling in your chest. sirius responds with a noncommittal shrug, sprinkling a handful of rose petals into his potion without a care in the world.
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
“so, mouse, how’d your study session in the library go?” the sound of the nickname coming in lily’s teasing voice causes your face to burn hot.
you turn towards her, having just pulled your nightgown over your head. you make a face, raking a hand through your hair as you flop onto your bed. marlene’s sprawled on her stomach at the end of your bed, flicking through a muggle magazine that lily brought back from holiday.
“not you too!” you complain, sighing heavily.
“i’m only teasing,” she says, leaning against the windowsill with her arms crossed over her chest. her lips are curled up in amusement, features slightly shadowed by the moonlight spilling in through the window behind her.
“i’ll never be y/n again. i’m gonna be mouse for the rest of my life at this rate,” you grumble, frustrated. “i mean, you accidentally transfigure yourself one time, and suddenly you’ve got a stupid nickname for life…”
marlene giggles at your dramatics, dropping the magazine onto your bed. “i think you’ll be okay. seems like james and sirius have gotten all of their fun out of it…” she trailed thoughtfully. “sirius was having the most fun with it, and even he was back to calling you y/n by the end of dinner.”
“remus, though,” lily begins, her eyes flashing with mischief. “seems like he really likes it.”
you swallow hard, trying not to think of the way your heart pounds at the sound of the silly nickname in his voice. tearing your eyes away from lily, you try to mask the embarrassment blooming on your face. even when the pair of you went to the library after your evening meal, he had taken to calling you ‘mouse’ without even realizing it. almost affectionately. you’d been reeling with butterflies the entire time, unable to focus on studying for your upcoming exams.
“kind of endearing, isn’t it?” continues marlene. “i mean, he gets this dreamy sort of look in his eyes when he’s talking to you… and it’s sort of a sweet nickname, if you think about it…”
“oh, come on,” you interject, as if they’re being ridiculous.
“no, honestly, y/n, you’re a bit oblivious,” lily adds. “he definitely thinks you’re fit.”
marlene smiles as you glance between the two of them, nodding her head in agreement. “and don’t lie and say you don’t feel the same way,” she warns.
“guys–”
lily narrows her eyes at you, “no lying.”
“i see you going all starry-eyed when you’re with him!” marlene sits up at the end of your bed, clasping her hands in her lap as she looks at you expectantly. “i’d bet ten galleons you curl up in your bed at night and dream of snogging remus lupin.”
“oh my godric,” you mutter, placing your hands to your burning face. you can’t bear to look either of them in the eye. you hate that they know you so well, and even worse that you’re doing a horrible job of hiding your crush on one of your best friends. it’s a miracle that no one’s gone blasting it all over the school yet.
“so it’s true?” lily prompts, leaning in to better hear your admission of guilt.
you huff, “don’t make me admit it.” your voice comes out as a whine, and that’s how they know they’ve got you. your secret has been exposed, and they’re having a giggling fit over it.
“next thing you know we’ll be finding moony and the mouse, curled up snogging in the common room,” says marlene, sounding smug.
“shut up,” you plead, though you can’t help the stupid smile that comes onto your lips as you shake your head.
“breaking all sorts of rules,” says lily. “including mine!”
lily’s one explicit rule: no marauders hooking up with her friends. a tried and true method of keeping the boys (mostly sirius) out of yours and marlene’s pants. it’s been foolproof.
“oh, shove it with the rules, evans,” marlene retorts. “you’d forget all about them once the four of you can go on silly little double dates.”
you feign a gag, and it sends them both into fits of laughter. “i am not going on any double dates.”
“no,” says lily, breathless, “i don’t think remus would like that very much, either…”
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
“where’s your chaperone, mckinnon?” it’s sirius, lounging on one of the sofas in the gryffindor common room. his wand is in his hand, flicking back and forth as he sends a tiny spark of light bouncing around the common room. he’s bored, waiting for the return of remus and james, probably to cause some trouble.
marlene crosses her arms over her chest. “she’s wrapped around your best friend, black,” she says, a faux-disgusted look plastered on her face. “they’re in a broom closet, snogging each other’s faces off…”
“ugh,” sirius says, dropping his wand as he leans up on his elbows to meet marlene’s gaze. “i showed james that bloody closet. now he’s gone and defiled it…” he flops back onto the couch, looking slightly sickened.
“can’t keep their hands off each other, the pair of them,” sirius continues after a moment.
marlene laughs, settling into one of the plush armchairs near the sofa sirius occupies. “you’re telling me.”
“what about moony?” sirius asks.
“studying with y/n.”
sirius nods, having expected that answer. “y’know, they’re as bad as lily and james. worse, i think,” he says. “it’s a nightmare, having to watch him fawn over her like a little lost puppy. i mean, ‘m supposed to be the canine here…” he shakes his head.
“you should hear y/n,” marlene counters. she’s not thinking as she speaks to sirius, not realizing she’s going on about your crush that you explicitly asked her not to discuss with anyone, especially not james or sirius. “the girl’s just dreaming of being shoved into a broom closet with remus. i wish they’d get over themselves and get a room.”
there’s a second of quiet between them, before marlene realizes what she’s just done. her eyes widen, and she blinks as sirius turns to look at her. she opens her mouth, though no words come out for a moment. “sirius–”
“well, i don’t know about shoving but–”
“sirius, listen to me,” marlene threatens, her voice sharp. “you can’t say anything. please. y/n will kill me.”
“ah, marls, that ship has sailed,” he laughs, sitting up. “moony’s in for a treat.” he practically leaps from his place on the sofa, looking awfully haughty as he plans to expose the blooming feelings between the two of his friends.
“sirius!” she hisses. “i’ll give you five galleons to keep it to yourself. please.”
sirius tuts, shaking his head. “sorry, love. i’ve no need for your money. besides, i’m doing all of us a favor here.”
marlene deflates before him, feeling extremely defeated as she watches sirius leave the common room, a new swagger in his step. dread clouds her senses as she realizes she’s going to have to tell you that she revealed your crush on remus.
˖ ࣪⭑˖ ࣪
“you’re looking awfully chipper this morning,” comments sirius, eyes skirting over you as you join him in the corridor.
“it’s hogsmeade weekend,” you say simply, hooking your arm through his to lead him down to the entry hall. it seems the rest of your friends have left already, none of them keen on waiting for you to return from the greenhouses this morning after helping professor sprout harvest flobberworm mucous for extra credit. “thanks for waiting for me, by the way.”
“someone had to,” he says, sounding a bit sheepish.
you roll your eyes, used to his faux disdain at your expense. “how’s moony?” you ask as you join the rest of the students making their way down to hogsmeade. the full moon was a couple nights ago, and you hadn’t seen your beloved lycanthrope in far too long. he tended to avoid you when it was, ahem, that time of the month, and though you thought it was unnecessary during the day, you understood. sirius and james could deal with him when he was in that state, but none of them liked to risk having you or the girls anywhere near his furry little problem. it was thoughtful, honestly.
“exhausted,” replies sirius. “he wanted to wait for you, but lily didn’t want to leave him alone. reckon she was scared he’d fall asleep standing up and get a concussion.”
you laugh half-heartedly and wonder why remus didn’t decide to stay behind and get some sleep. you worried about him, oftentimes wondering if he was truly taking care of himself properly. each time he went out to the shrieking shack he returned with new scars, looking more and more ill as the weeks went on. it was a wonder he was managing his classes and keeping decent marks.
you chatter back and forth as you make your way to hogsmeade, sirius recounting their latest excursion in the shrieking shack. you finally make it to hogsmeade, spotting lily’s bright hair shining in the sun, and the goofy look on james’s face as he does some impersonation of one of your classmates, that you just happen to catch the tail-end of.
“who’s that you’re mocking, prongs?” you raise your eyebrows, arms crossed as the group begins marching towards the three broomsticks.
“i’ll have a guess,” says sirius. he thinks it over for a second, then a lightbulb seems to go off in his head. “that hufflepuff fifth year, what’s his name? the burly one, tried out for seeker and wrecked his broom into the stands?”
james erupts into a fit of cackling laughter, nodding his head. “yes, yes!” he claps, looking quite pleased with his interpretation of the hufflepuff boy’s less than graceful dismount. remus laughs softly, while marlene rolls her eyes.
“not everyone is as adept as you on a broomstick, potter,” says marlene.
“i’m only joking,” james says, shrugging. “‘sides, it’s not like anyone’s gonna tell the poor guy. what he doesn’t know, won’t hurt him.” the dark-haired boy winks as he opens the door to the three broomsticks, waving you all inside.
you nudge remus in the side as you stand in the crowd, waiting to push through the gaggles of students to find a table big enough to fit all of you.
“hello, mouse,” he says, voice tired although he’s sporting his usual smile. sirius was right. he looks awfully haggard, and a lot like he should be in bed instead of traipsing through hogsmeade.
“how are you feeling?” you ask, concerned. your conversation is overshadowed by the chatter all around you, which you’re thankful for. it’s unlikely anyone could overhear the two of you discussing his delicate situation.
“i could go for a long nap,” he says, truthfully. “missed you, though.”
your heart leaps in your chest, and a shy half-smile finds its way to your lips. “you don’t have to exhaust yourself just to see me, rem,” you say, flushed.
“i don’t mind.” he shrugs. his hand bumps yours as you stand, watching sirius push through a crowd of confused looking third-years, heading for a table in the corner. he hooks one finger with yours for half a second, before the two of you are following your friends to the table.
you swear the touch sends your whole body vibrating, your heart beating loudly enough that you’re sure everyone in the pub can hear it. you take your seat, head swimming as you settle down and order a butterbeer when madame rosmerta comes for your orders.
after the three broomsticks, your group splits up. james and sirius flit off to spintwitches sporting needs, james muttering something about new quidditch gloves. marlene and lily run into mary macdonald outside of honeydukes. which leaves you and remus.
“right, mouse, where to?” remus looks to you for direction, having brightened up a bit since having something to drink. he’s much less ill-looking, although you notice a fresh scar creeping up from beneath the neckline of his sweater. your eyes skirt over the wound, but you jerk your attention away before he notices.
“how about gladrags?” you wonder aloud. “i saw a nice blouse in there on the last hogsmeade weekend. ‘course, i talked myself out of buying it at the time, but i really want it…” you realize that you’re rambling, and stop before you can embarrass yourself.
“after you,” he offers his arm, and you try not to look flustered as you take it.
gladrags is empty as ever, very few wizards doing any clothing shopping at this time of year, it seems. the cashier is an ancient elderly lady, who shouts hello at you as you enter. you reply, but she’s got hearing problems, and you’re not loud enough. remus shouts a greeting back, earning a smile from the lady and a fit of giggles from you.
“poor old woman,” remus says, amused.
“hush,” you say quietly, although there’s no risk of her accidentally hearing you.
“sorry,” he says, eyes still crinkled as he smiles. “now, where is this lovely blouse?” he inquires, quirking an eyebrow. you finger through the racks, looking for the pale-coloured, silken fabric. you finally find it, the last shirt on a very back rack.
“what do you think?” you ask, holding the fabric up against your front, peering down at it.
“hmmm,” remus examines the fabric, taking the tail of it between his fingers. “looks like a blouse.”
you roll your eyes. “this is why i don’t go shopping with boys,” you say, laughing softly.
“maybe you should try it on,” he suggests. “i’m sure it looks better on.”
you nod. “good idea,” you flit off to the changing rooms. remus waits for you, your coat draped over his arm as he waits for you to change, listening to you curse as you fiddle with the buttons on the blouse. you adjust the lace outlining the neckline and the sleeves, smoothing the fabric as you eye yourself in the mirror.
“okay, rem, what do you think?” you thrust open the curtain to the changing room. remus’s eyes widen a tad, and you swear there’s a flush of pink across his cheeks. he forces his gaze up from the dip in the silken fabric that accentuates your chest, and meets your eyes. you shift under his gaze, looking hopeful.
“erm,” he clears his throat, brushing a strand of hair off of his forehead. “much better on, absolutely. very pretty, mouse.”
“i thought so, too,” you agree, turning away and sweeping the curtain shut behind you. outside, you hear him swear under his breath and the sound of shuffling. your hands tremble a bit, your nerves getting the better of you. the complement, coupled with the bloody nickname. it’s enough to have your head spinning, wishing you could just grab him by the shoulders and kiss him silly. in your mind’s eye you see the almost bashful look in his eyes as he took in the sight of you, and you can’t focus on anything else.
after a few moments of struggling with the stupid buttons, unable to undo them, you hear his voice on the other side of the door.
“okay in there?” he asks, closer now. the sound of his voice sends a jolt through you.
“i’m all right,” you respond. “can’t get these bleeding buttons undone.”
it’s quiet for a second. “need help, mouse?”
you freeze. he sounds like he genuinely wants to help. you tell yourself he’s just a friend offering help to his friend. deep down, though, you’re hopeful. maybe your feelings are not as one-sided as you thought…
you struggle with the buttons for another second, then concede. you peek out of the changing room, ensuring there are no witnesses, before dragging him inside by the sleeve of his sweater. there’s a split second of tension, his gaze finding your half-unbuttoned blouse before it lands on your clearly flustered expression.
he laughs gently. your brows pull together.
“what’s funny?” you ask, frowning.
“‘m sorry,” he says, shaking his head. “let me just…” he trails, hanging up your discarded coat before his nimble fingers come to the buttons on your chest. goosebumps rise on your skin, and you try not to shiver. you follow his movements, his face screwed up in concentration as he fiddles with the tricky buttons.
“i’m starting to rethink this purchase, considering it’s a nightmare getting off,” you say, pressing your lips together as his eyes flick up to your face. he smiles, amused.
“i think you should get it,” remus says.
“you think so?”
“yeah. especially if you’ll be needing my help taking it off more often.” you swear he winks at you, and your knees turn into jelly. has he really just said that? you blink for a second, one of your hands coming up to stop his fingers from unhooking the buttons.
“moony…”
“what?” he looks up at you, a teasing glint in his pale brown eyes.
your cheeks are pink, and your eyes dreamy as you look at him. his skin is warm where your hand is clasped around his, and despite his exhaustion, he’s never felt more alive.
“i– sorry,” he says, “you just— you look very beautiful. and i think it would be a waste not to buy this blouse when it wouldn’t look nearly as good on anyone else.” his voice has gone quiet. he swallows before continuing. “sirius said... well, maybe he was lying, but he said you have feelings for me... and i just wanted you to know that i feel the same.”
the butterflies in your stomach have turned to dragons, ravaging your insides. you’re pressed close to him, close enough to feel his breath fanning over your skin. inside your chest, your heart is beating fast enough that you’re sure it’s going to burst any second. with your free hand, you reach up and slowly trace the new scar on his neck, up to his face. you cup his cheek, your thumb swiping just beneath his clear eyes.
“can i kiss you, mouse?” he asks, the question barely audible.
“i would like that,” you say simply.
there’s a split second of hesitation, before he’s pulling you into him. his lips are softer than you expected, gently parting to deepen the kiss. you tighten your grasp around his hand, and your other hand snakes around to curl into the hair at the nape of his neck. he presses closer to you, very lightly, as if you’re delicate. you hum against his mouth, your head swimming as you finally force yourself to part ways. the blouse is still halfway undone, forgotten between the two of you. you’re drunk on his presence, wishing you were back in the castle so you could have him all to yourself, for as long as you’d like.
“we–um, do you want to get out of here?” you suggest, pressing your lips together. the ghost of his mouth against yours is driving you crazy. you feel incomplete without him wrapped around you. you want him touching you, forever.
“let’s get this off, quick,” he says, nodding. he struggles for another second with the pesky buttons, and then you’re slipping the blouse over your shoulders. remus adverts his gaze, and you can’t help but smile. such a gentleman. you adore him.
“is the coast clear?” you wonder, once you’re dressed and ready to go.
“think we’re all right,” he says. he leads you to the front counter, and generously pays for your new blouse, which he admits he likes very much.
“in fact,” he says as you exit the shop, “i think you should wear it again tonight.”
“really?” you ask, unable to mask the beaming smile on your face.
“mhmm,” he agrees, interlacing your fingers as he leads you down the street, in search of the rest of your friends. “actually, i think it’d be quite nice tomorrow night, too… and the night after that, and after that…” he trails, grinning as you smack him playfully on the arm.
it seems the rest of the group have been searching for you for a while, lily approaching with an exasperated look on her face.
“where have you two been?” she asks.
“we’ve been looking everywhere,” adds marlene.
“sorry–” you begin, but you’re cut off by sirius, who takes a step closer to peer at the two of you.
“why have you got that look on your face, moony?” he narrows his gaze at remus, who shrugs. “and you–” he turns to you “--your lips are all swollen. oh! merlin, you’ve been off swapping saliva haven’t you?” he makes a very long, exaggerated gagging noise to which james offers loud laughter.
“oh, shut up, sirius,” you mutter, shoving him as you begin your walk back to the castle. “you’re just mad that no one’s offered to swap saliva with you.”
#remus lupin#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin fic#remus lupin imagine#remus lupin fluff#remus lupin x reader fluff#marauders era#marauders era fic#marauders fic#marauders fanfiction#harry potter fanfiction#harry potter#marauders#slb.works#fluff
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bonfire - percy jackson
Request: yes! "Hey I was just wondering if you could make a Percy Jackson x gn reader where the reader had a crush on Percy for a while and was jealous of annabeth only to find out Percy felt the same"
Pairing: percy jackson x gn!reader
Summary: you've got a crush on percy, but it looks as if he only has eyes for annabeth. you try to keep your distance, but it's hard and percy notices you're absent
Warnings: jealousy, angst
Word count: 1.5K
A/N: happy new year!! sadly I went into the year with my tiktok account getting banned because they think I'm 13?? all I do is post silly little pjo videos but apparently its not okay so now I have to start over :( thanks for your request, enjoy!
you wonder if your life would be different if you were more like annabeth.
you're looking at her right now, as she's talking with her team. you know you can't win capture the flag from her. she's too smart. always analysing, always calculating everything that can go wrong and then preventing it.
percy is also looking at annabeth.
he's on her team, after all.
you're trying to listen as clarisse, your team captain, explains her new plan to your team. but you're only hearing half of what she's saying. you're far too focused on percy as he smiles at annabeth while she's talking to him.
you can tell he likes her. and it's not like you hadn't tried to let it go.
you had tried to push your feelings away, to ignore them, nothing worked. when you saw percy chatting with annabeth, you felt a little jealous.
soon your crush on percy and with it, your jealousy of annabeth, started to grow. so you decided if nothing worked, you'd distance yourself from percy.
it hurt, especially since percy was happy to spend his time with annabeth instead of you. at first, he would still invite you to spend time with him. but after you kept declining his offers, he eventually stopped asking you.
you tried not to show anyone how upset you were. maybe it would get easier with time. it's clear to you percy prefers annabeth over you.
on top of it all, you lose capture the flag yet again. you're forced to sit on the sidelines with your team, listening to clarisse tell you everything that went wrong. in the distance, you can see percy and annabeth celebrating their win with the rest of the team.
you tell yourself it's just a game and that you don't care their team won. maybe if you tell yourself it enough times, you might believe it.
when you're walking back to the cabins to put away your armor and weapons, you hear someone call your name behind you.
you turn around and see percy jogging to catch up with you.
you hate the way your heart still skips a beat when you see his eyes and quick smile.
'good game!' he says, stopping in front of you.
'hi percy.' you say.
'hi.' he says with a smile. gods, he's going to be the death of you one day.
'congrats on winning. again.'
'thanks! annabeth had this amazing plan.'
'athena kids, huh?' you mumble, trying not to show your disappointment at how it only took a couple of seconds for percy to bring up annabeth in the conversation.
'you busy tonight?' he says.
you look up at him. surely he wouldn't?
'not really. why?' you say.
'there's a bonfire tonight. want to come?' says percy.
'yeah, that sounds good.' you say. you could never say no to him.
sitting at the bonfire, you hadn't done that in a while. ever since you decided to try and distance yourself from percy, you missed out on things you knew he would be present at.
'great! it was annabeth's idea to host one, see you tonight!' says percy, waving at you and taking off again, headed towards his own cabin.
you just stand there. of course it was annabeth's plan, of course she'd be there as well.
as you walk to your cabin, you're not sure you can stand watching them together all night after watching them win capture the flag. but you'd told percy you'd come. and you hate to let him down.
so when the sun is setting, you make your way to the bonfire. while you're walking, you can't stop thinking about how cold it is. you should have brought a jacket. but you're afraid that if you go back to your cabin, you won't go to the bonfire anymore. and then percy would be upset.
at the bonfire, there's almost no kids from your team. there are a few of your siblings, but not a lot.
the kids from the opposite team are dancing, laughing and celebrating.
is this really where you want to be tonight?
you spot percy in the distance, talking with a few apollo kids. without meaning to, your eyes also search for annabeth. she's sitting with her siblings. at least they're not together again.
you'd stay for an hour. just to show your face, then you'd go back to your cabin. that's acceptable, right?
you get yourself a drink and sit down near the edge of the party, where most of the kids are just talking with each other and not really doing a lot.
as you think back to capture the flag earlier today, you try to figure out how annabeth's team could always beat yours. you know athena kids are smart, but ares kids also know a lot about battle strategies. maybe you could sit down with clarisse some day and see if you can help her with a new plan.
you're lost in thoughts, when you hear a familiar laugh in the distance. you look over and see annabeth has left her siblings and is now sitting next to percy.
you sigh softly, it was never going to be any different, was it?
for a while, you watch the other kids, listening to their songs. you had to give it to the apollo cabin, they know how to get a party started. when you look back at percy and annabeth, percy is gone.
before you can look around where he is, someone sits down next to you.
'having fun?'
you turn and are met with percy's bright eyes. you put on a smile, hoping it looks sincere.
'yeah. thanks for inviting me.' you say.
percy tilts his head a little and gives you a confusing look.
'you say you're having fun and yet since you got here you've been sitting here with a drink you haven't touched, freezing and shivering.' says percy.
right. you forgot your jacket.
'sorry. I was thinking about capture the flag.' you say.
'ah yes, about our fantastic victory.' says percy, smiling and bumping your shoulder. 'you should come up with a new plan some day. maybe talk to clarisse about it?'
'I will.' you say.
'then again, it is hard to beat annabeth's plans. sometimes I don't even know her entire plan until the game is already over.' says percy.
really? how does he manage to bring up annabeth every single time he's talking to you?
'well, don't let me keep you.' you say. 'thanks for checking in, but you don't have to take pity on me for losing. you can go back to annabeth now.'
percy frowns. 'what are you talking about?' he says.
'well, clearly you like her.' you say.
percy laughs at your words. you feel the color drain from your face. tears start to form in your eyes.
'alright, I'm leaving.' you say, getting up.
percy abruptly stops laughing. 'wait no, please don't go.' he says, pulling you back down.
'sorry, I shouldn't have laughed at that. it's just, yeah, I like annabeth. but not like that, we're just friends. I like you, okay? I thought you knew.' says percy.
your lips part in surprise. did you hear that right?
'you like me?' you say. 'like... you like like me?'
percy smiles. gods he really is beautiful. 'yeah, I like like you, alright.' he says. 'which reminds me, why have you been avoiding me lately?'
you look down, fidgeting with the hem of your shirt. 'I thought if I wouldn't see you, my feelings for you would go away.'
'but they didn't.'
'no, they didn't. my eyes were still finding you in ever room. even tonight, I didn't really want to come. but I couldn't say no to you.'
'is that also why you didn't bring a jacket? so you'd have an excuse to go back soon?'
you look up and shake your head. 'no, I did actually forget my jacket.' you say.
percy takes off his sweater and hands it to you. 'here.' he says. 'wouldn't want you to freeze.'
'thank you.' you say, taking it and putting it on. it's bigger than your own sweaters and smells like him.
'want to get out of here?' says percy. 'we can go to the lake. or my cabin, no one's there. it'll just be the two of us.'
'do you have a heater in your cabin?' you say.
'no.' says percy, getting up and holding out his hand to you. 'but consider me your personal heater from now on. always available for cuddles.'
you smile, taking his hand. 'I like that.' you say.
as you and percy walk off, annabeth is still sitting by the campfire. she's smiling to herself. she knew about percy's crush on you. he'd been asking her all sorts of advice. and it looks like he finally told you.
A/N:
If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rulesHere’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist.
Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading!
Much love,
Marit
#new episode in a couple of hours how we feeling!!#pjo#percy jackson#Percy Jackson x reader#Percy Jackson x gn!reader#Percy Jackson fanfiction#Percy Jackson fanfic#Percy Jackson fanfics#Percy Jackson fic#Percy Jackson fics#Percy Jackson oneshot#Percy Jackson oneshots#Percy Jackson angst#pjo fanfiction#pjo fanfic#pjo fanfics#pjo fic#pjo fics#pjo oneshot#pjo oneshots
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Detective Oblivious - Various HSR Characters x GN! Reader
★ Summary: You’re best friend lately has been acting strange. Could they have a crush on someone?! You have to get to the bottom of it…though perhaps you can start by noticing how they look at you
☆ Characters Included (Separate): Gepard, Luocha, Welt, Luka, March, Kafka
★ Genre/Trope: Romantic + Fluff + Maybe a bit of Crack
☆ Warnings: None
★ Extra: Genshin Ver Here // Semi-Proof Read
You knew Gepard since the both of you were young. You weren't a Silverman Guard yourself but you definitely supported your best friend when he became one. And was so proud when he later became a captain.
Lately though, he seems to be tripping over his words when he's trying to instruct some new members, and you witness all of it. It's strange though. You knew Gepard was a great teacher and mentor yet when you decide to visit you see him stumble on his words and even get strange looks from the trainees.
You were talking to Serval who simply laughed and said.
"He's distracted by a certain someone~"
But who could be occupying his mind!? You could see Serval gave you a deadpan look when she realized you were actually thinking of who could be on her brother's mind. She wanted to smack you silly but at the same time. If her lil Geppie wasn't ready to confess she can't do it for him.
You stopped visiting Gepard whilst he was training trainees or anyone in fact. And he did just fine! That's what you heard anyways when Lynx nudged you smiling knowingly. You grumbled a bit as you haven't gotten one bit closer to finding out who your friend had a crush on.
In truth, you also didn't want to know. You had feelings for the guard, but at the same time you'd be able to know if whoever took his heart was a good fit for him. Though...eventually your frustrations got the better of you, and one day. When he was free and so were you...
"WHO THE HELL DO YOU LIKE!?"
You watched as a blush crept on his face and looked at you. It seems as though his sisters have told him about how dense you were to who he liked. He took a small breath before answering you.
"O-oh...it's um...it's actually...you"
When Luocha realises he has feelings for you and they are genuine. Like, he wants to spend all his life with you. He seeks you out. He starts by gathering various things you like and asked to hang out with you. Like a date in his mind but in yours it was just what you two usually did.
You didn't even realise he was trying to be more romantic to get the mood set for when he confesses...and he could see that. He found it both annoying yet amusing with how you seemed to play off everything he did as purely platonic.
He opened a door for you when you went into a restaurant.
He pulled a chair out for you.
He even paid for your whole meal, held your hand as you walked out and even gave you a kiss. Now the good news is that at the end of the day, when he brought you home. You realised he was acting strange! The bad news is...
"Do you like the waitress that was serving us or something? You were acting so differently and we always have that waitress when we go eat at that place. So you have to like her right?"
You state, almost proudly. Luocha could only sigh and pat your head before leaving a small kiss on your cheek.
"I think I prefer the person in front of me"
When you saw that the usually calm and collected Welt seemed to be acting differently. As well as Himeko and the other trailblazers (minus Dan Heng) giggling when he was talking to you. You knew something was up, but he always told you everything?
You consulted everyone on the Express who each gave you a vague answer about how "he's just nervous" and "you'll know when he's ready" until you asked March 7th. She excitedly explained that he finally liked someone before the Trailblazer covered her mouth and scolded her for revealing his secrets.
Lucky for them though, you had no idea you were the one he developed feelings for. They weren't sure if they should be relieved you were dense to his feelings or mildly concerned.
In the following days you've compiled a lot of people you knew Welt knows. This was quite the long list considering the people he's met and you spent hours crossing out names, adding names back in and considering if he liked them or not. You were almost tempted to check his phone to see if you can spot a difference in behaviour there.
Welt eventually found the notebook you were using as your "Detective Journal" and raised it above your head as you tried to retrieve it, simply stating you were wrong with each name listed.
"Huh!? Then who do you like?"
"Simple, the one person you didn't add to the list. Yourself"
How could you not notice the way Luka always tries extra hard in whatever he's doing when he finds out you're there? He begged a bunch of his friends and such not to tell you as he wants to make it special. Wants to "mega impress you so you'll go on a date with him" (his words not mine)
This was all fine...if it weren't for the fact that to everyone else. He was being so obvious he liked you.
Anytime he wins a match he specifically looks for you to see your reaction.
Anytime you compliment something of his, perhaps his hair style or the clothes he was wearing. He always wears his hair that way more often and buys more clothes of similar styles.
He's always so attentive to you, not that he isn't to anyone else when you're all hanging out. But it's clear he's listening to whatever you say with direct care as if the words you speak will run away if he doesn't.
It's gone to the point where Seele begins ranting to Bronya about it. Crying over the fact that you can't see the tell tale signs. It all broke for her when you tell her that you think Luka likes someone but you can't figure out who. And even though she said she wouldn't tell, she ends up clutching onto your shoulders and shaking you.
"HE LIKES YOU DUMBASS"
March 7th honestly acts similar to how she always does. Just a bit more energetic when you're around. But you knew she was still acting differently, I mean she's your best friend. Surely you'd know when she's different, even just a bit.
And you attempted to figure out why she's acting differently. Finally settling on having a crush. But who could she like? She's complimented many people on their appearance before but you knew she didn't like them in a romantic sense.
You began thinking to see if she did actually like anyone in a different way and you just weren't there to see it. Then again, you and her always stuck together. You knew everyone she knew, so there wasn't any point in thinking if she met someone else.
One day when you were in her room, she went out to grab something and you noticed a book poking out from under her bed. Pulling it out you looked at the cover
"The Best Person Ever < 3”
was written. So this is it! You'll finally find out who she liked. But at the same time...you didn't want to break her trust by looking through it. You silently put the book down and slide it back under the bed, but not in time for her to walk in and see the book in hand. She quickly ran over with a blush and asked if you saw anything, to which you shook her head and said no.
She breathed a sigh of relief...until you both noticed one of the pictures fell out and oh? It's you with a heart drawn around you...that's not how she wanted to confess...
Kafka finds out rather quickly that you're trying to figure out who she likes. Who she's developed feelings for. She knew that you knew that her behaviour has changed up a bit, especially with you. How you didn't connect the dots when she out right told you she did in fact like someone is beyond everyone.
But oh she loves watching you from a distance try to find out just who got her attention. Who the lucky one is to be the item of her affection.
She messes with you, she gives you hints on who she likes but keeps them as vague as possible so that she can just watch you pout in frustration every time she says you guessed incorrectly. She just loves watching how much you try to figure it out.
But as much as she loves that, as time goes on. She does get slightly annoyed that you've guessed everyone, even twice. But never guessed yourself. So one day she tells you that she'll reveal her crush. And simply raised a mirror to your face with a smile.
"Aren't they just the cutest?~"
Anyone else find it hard to know when someone likes them? Cuz I do, hence this idea sprang forth. Not all the characters included are ones I simp for but I thought it would be interesting to add them (I literally only simp for Luocha out of the characters included tbh nsoaorgr)
#honkai star rail#hsr#hsr x reader#hsr x you#honkai star rail x reader#honkai star rail x you#hsr imagines#Gepard x Reader#Gepard x You#Luocha x Reader#Luocha x You#Welt x Reader#Welt x You#Luka x Reader#Luka x You#March 7th x Reader#March 7th x You#Kafka x Reader#Kafka x You#🎭 masked fools
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• friend Stray Kids saving you (or being saved by you) from a bad date | Jeongin x Noona!reader
Chan , Minho, Changbin, Hyunjin, Jisung , Felix, Seungmin
genre: friends to lovers
Warnings: none
The restaurant is nice, the food is delicious. Your date is horrible.
That’s what you get for trusting dating apps and giving in the peer pressure of your colleagues and downloading the aforementioned app. On paper, this guy is perfect: tall, pretty, loves animals and has an interesting job. In reality he’s an incel and, despite your protests, decided to sit on your side of the table so he can try and cop a feel every now and then.
You even tried texting Changbin for an easy way out of this date but your friend isn’t answering. It would have been useful having him here, since he’s good at looking like a bad guy… and his arms and shoulders help a lot. You have half a mind to text Chan, or Minho, since they’re also good at scaring people off, but you’re not sure you want to bother them.
The one person you’re absolutely not going to text (and not going to tell about this date to) is Jeongin. It’s already awkward enough that you have a massive crush on him, you’re not going to ask him to rescue you.
Your crush will go away eventually. Doesn’t matter that you could celebrate its first birthday in just a few weeks, it’s just a silly little crush. This is what you tell yourself, at least.
Your feeling started growing little by little but, the moment you realized, you also realized you were fucked. And not in a fun way. Why did you have to fall for the pretty, younger, talented guy who is guarded by 7 hyungs like they’re bodyguards? On top of this, you’re pretty sure Minho’s onto you. You can see it in his eyes anytime you laugh a little too loud at Jeongin’s jokes and you look at him a little too long.
Unbeknown to you, Jeongin is looking at you right now. And he’s boiling. He’s so ready to jump the guy that keeps scooting closer to you, uncaring of the fact that you keep scooting away from him. The same guy keeps touching your arm and your hair despite you asking him not to do it.
Jeongin is a time bomb. And he’d have intervened sooner, but how is he going to explain the fact that he’s here because he followed you after he heard you talking about going on a date? One thing is having a crush on his noona, another thing is following her to make sure she’s not going home with her date safe.
To Jeongin, his noona is so pretty, so kind, so perfect, no one deserves her.
Sadly, not even him.
Not that he has a chance.
He can’t forbid you to go on dates, but he can make sure you’re okay and that you’re gonna think of him while you’re with other guys. So he takes out his phone and quickly types a text.
You spot Jeongin in the restaurant and a thousand questions start wandering in your mind. Why is he here? And why did he text you knowing you were there? What was that about the guy being a loser? In your peripheral vision you see him pay for his dinner and come closer to your table, so you prepare yourself to pretend he’s your cousin or friend whom you haven’t seen in a while and you want to catch up with. What you don’t expect is for him to sit so close to you he’s almost in your lap, with an arm around your shoulders and a sexy smirk on his face.
“Noona, you’re too pretty to be wasting time with this guy.” he says, and his voice is loud, too loud. Your date starts to protest his words and ask questions, but you’re too taken aback by Jeongin’s behavior to answer. The younger guy is cocky, his usually cute smile is now a cruel smirk when directed to your date and when directed to you is… flirtatious?
“Innie” your tone is almost admonishing, but you don’t really have it in you to reprimand him.
“And who is this kid?” asks your date, after having tossed his napkin on the table. His stand is one of dare towards Jeongin and his tone is provocative.
“This kid is the one who’s taking her home.” Jeongin replies, a mocking smile on his lips. It’s time you step in, or this can get ugly way too fast. With a hand on Jeongin’s shoulder you try to tell him to tone it down a little and with a polite and contrite expression you turn to your date. “I think our night should end here. I’m sorry if I’ve wasted your time, but we’re not really a good fit.”
“And you’re really gonna go home with this kid?” You take a deep breath. You might put up with someone insulting you, but you don’t like the tone he’s using to talk about Jeongin. You roll your eyes and signal Jeongin to get up so you can leave. Reaching into your purse you grab your wallet to pay for dinner. “Yes, I'm gonna go home with him. Try to be less of a creepy pushy asshole and maybe one day some girl might consider going home with you. In the meantime, I hope women will recognize quickly what type of men you are.”
You grab Innie’s hand, who in the meantime is giving the guy a gloating smile, and make him follow you outside or the restaurant. You try to let his hand go but he holds your with determination and leads you to a close playground. You sit on the swings and for a minute you’re silent, swinging in the night, enjoying the fresh air.
“I need you to explain, Innie.”
“Do I have to, Noona?” What is he going to tell you? The truth or a lie? You nod in his direction and then occupy yourself with trying to spot a few stars in the night sky, waiting for him to explain. He seems to think about what to say, hands fidgeting in his lap and his teeth worrying his lip.
“I followed you.” Your head turns towards him so fast you give yourself whiplash. “You what?”
“I was worried! You decided to go on a date with a guy you met on a dating app!” His tone sounds accusing, but you know him enough to know there’s something more. “And I was right. The guy was an asshole. I wanted to punch him when he kept touching you even though you tried to get at a safe distance.”
“Innie… I’m a big girl, I can take care of myself. You don’t have to worry about me. You don’t have to… to protect me.” He makes a face like he just ate something he hates. “How did you even find out about the date?”
“I heard you talking on the phone. Sorry I followed you.”“It’s okay, just don’t do it anymore, uh? Let Noona worry for you, not the opposite. I’m the older one.”
You thought it was the right thing to say, but apparently it was not, because Jeongin stopped swinging on his swing and he’s making an expression you don’t want to see in his face. He looks sad and almost in pain.“Jeonginnie?” You ask in a tiny voice, trying to understand what was that you said that can justify his reaction.
“Is this all I’ll ever be? Just a dongsaeng?” He kicks softly at the sand at your feet, head bowed down and words hushed.
“What do you mean? You’re my dongsaeng. Why is that bad?” He shakes his head and doesn’t answer but you can hear him sigh.
“It’s not bad, just…” he shakes his head again and gets up. “Never mind. Let’s go.”
“Wait, Jeongin…” despite your words, he keeps slowly walking away from you, so you follow him quickly until you reach him. Walking side by side you try to think back to yours and his words, but you can’t seem to grasp the problem.
“Jeongin, what’s wrong?” He keeps walking and when you try to hold his hand to slow him down and face him, he takes it away. Uh, this hurts.
“Innie, c’mon, talk to me. Noona’s sorry, okay? Tell me what I did wrong and I’ll fix it.” Maybe he’s angry he feels like he has to watch your back? “I won’t make you worry anymore, that’s my job since I’m older.” The moment your last word is out of your mouth, he stops on his track.
“Stop saying that, you’re making it worse!” He's loud now. Which isn’t uncommon, but not in this kind of circumstances.
“I don’t understand.”
A gust of wind makes you shiver and, to fight the sudden cold, you hug yourself. You hate fighting with Jeongin, and luckily it doesn’t happen often, but now you’re having an hard time understanding what even the fight is about.
Seeing you shiver, Jeongin takes off his jacket and puts it on your shoulders. “No, Innie. You’ll be cold like that, you need it more than I do!” He holds it around your shoulder with more force.
“Stop, stop, stop it! Stop treating me like a kid. I know I’m younger and I’m just a kid but stop always making it so painfully obvious. I know I’ll never be more than your dongsaeng, I know you’ll never look at me and see a man, but fuck, stop doing this all the time. Once, just once, let me take care of you. Let me be something more than just a kid in your eyes.”
���But-“
“No, I get it, okay? It’s embarrassing knowing a younger guy has a crush on you, you probably laugh about it with your other friends because it’s pathetic, I’m pathetic, but Noona… today I got to help you and I was so proud of myself but then that asshole called me a kid and you didn’t correct him. And I realized that, no matter how hard I try, I’ll always be just a kid to you.”
Being young, being considered the youngest and therefore the one who needs coddling and help is one of the things he hates the most. And you knew, you talked about how he hates being babied by his hyungs. You prided yourself for being someone who wouldn’t treat him like that. Yes, you let him get away with things cause he’s endearing and your dongsaeng, but you didn’t realize you’re part of the problem.
On one thing he’s wrong, tho. You don’t see him as a kid, you do consider him a man, but telling him wouldn’t be effective. So you do the next best thing you think will send the right message. You kiss him.
His lips are warm against yours and, after the initial shock, he’s kissing you back. Your hands raise to reach around his neck and rest there, holding him close to you
Soon, too soon, he’s moving away a little to look at you.
“What’s this?”
“You’re wrong about something, Jeonginnie. I’ve always looked at you and seen a man. I didn’t know you have a crush on me, or I would have done this sooner. Because I have a crush on you. And I felt like I had no right to want you.”
His smile is blinding, and you love to see him like this.
“You have a crush on me, Noona?”
“I do. Is that okay?” Instead of answering you with words, he kisses you again and his smile can be felt in the kiss.
“Innie, I know you’re not a kid. But can I still call you my baby?” The wind carries his laugh and you feel so happy you want to dance.
“As long as I’m yours, you can call me whatever you want.”
Hand in hand, his jacket still on your shoulders, you walk home and you’re the happiest you’ve been in a while.
(The day after, he wakes up with a sore throat and a mild fever. You don’t have it in you to scold him, and you promised yourself not to baby him, so you let his hyungs do that and you play the role of a good girlfriend and you cuddle him in his bed.
When Minho enters the room and sees you this close, you swear he’s threatening you in Morse code or telepathically: if you hurt him, you’ll have to answer to us all. But you’ll do the same, so you nod and give him a little smile. Deal.)
#bluejutdae#stray kids x reader#stray kids fanfic#stray kids scenarios#stray kids imagines#skz#jeongin x you#jeongin fanfic#jeongin x reader#jeongin scenarios#Jeongin x Noona#stray kids fake texts#skz fake texts
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hey! can you please write a lando × bustamante reader....where the reader is the younger sister of Bianca Bustamante and has a huge crush on lando but Lando finds her irritating for some reasons and one day he shouts at her after a bad race when she tries to console him in front of the McLaren crew.. after that lando felt really bad and he had grovel a lot for forgiveness (btw the reader is only one year younger than bianca)....if you do write this thank you very much 🧡🧡
🎀1,317 words 8561 Characters around 5 pages enjoy 🎀
ooo I’m not the biggest fan of bianca but I do love this trope :)
You knew that life was never meant to be fair to everyone yet you had no idea why life constantly tried to screw with you.
Ever since you were a child, you’d always been compared with your older sister, Bianca. She was always seen as the brave, bold, and beautiful one who dared to achieve her dreams and had high ambitions. Whereas people, heck, even your own family, saw you as the timid, overlooked, and frankly dull sibling. Did it hurt growing up like that? Yes, it did.
Did it hurt when all the boys you had a crush on would only use you to get to your sister? Yes, it did. Did it hurt to see your sister achieve everything you’d ever wanted in life and for you to only be known as her sidekick, or, in other words, her shadow? You really don’t remember the last time you’ve ever set yourself apart from your sister and her needs; it’s almost second nature for you to prioritise her and ignore yourself.
This habit of yours was noticed by the eyes of a young British driver. He’s found that habit of yours annoying ever since.
The day Bianica signed for McLaren under F1 Academy was the best and worst day of your life. You were beyond happy for her but you also felt yourself fading further into her shadow. With more media coverage and attention on your sister, you simply faded away.
You had frankly thought about packing your bags and going back home until the same blue-eyed British driver caught your attention. It was silly to say, but you felt like a little teenager with a huge crush.
You knew it wasn’t right to have a crush on your sister’s coworker, but the way he was made it almost impossible. You liked the way he talked, the way he walked, and the way he still had his accent. You liked the way his nose wrinkled any time you talked about sushi or fish. You liked the way that he was a ball of energy, always so confident and fun to be around. What you liked the most about him was the way he made you feel seen and heard. When you were with him, it was almost like you were just you and not Bianca's little sister.
However, within all the giddy feelings of having a crush on Lando, you could not ignore how badly McLaren was doing. It was almost pitiful how poor their race performance was. Qualifying 18 and 19th and having to come into the pits four times in the race would kill anyone’s mood. Lando was no different; over the course of the season, he grew more and more aggressive and agitated after each race.
Lando and her had formed a little ritual: after each race, he would do his interviews while she would wait in the garage, and he would go into his driver's room, and exactly 5 minutes later, she would show up with any sweet treat she could snuggle in, and they would just talk. Some days it would be him talking and her listening, and other days it would be her lifting his confidence up with encouraging words. It is safe to say she really loved their ritual, only hoping to continue their ritual with better results for him.
As the season went on, she noticed a shift in Lando's behavior. His happygo-llucky attitude towards her started to shift towards a more annoyed and irritated mood. It started when she tired of talking to him before a race; he didn’t take kindly to that and simply ignored her and rolled his eyes. It hurt her; it really did, and she could do nothing about it.
They were not friends; they were just forced to be together due to their situations. She knew he would never like her back, but her infatuation with him made each and every move he made romantic.
It started to affect her more when he started distancing himself from her. Lando never wanted to hurt her; he started getting fond of the girl he once was annoyed with. He didn’t know why he started cutting her off; he was trying to play dumb, but deep down he knew he started having feelings for her.
He messed up in Silverstone both on and off track. Home Grand Prixs always have a special place in drivers hearts. It was no different with Lando; Silverstone was the one place every British driver wanted to win in front of their home crowd on their home soil.
The race was long anticipated; she was in his driver's room prior to the race; they had their normal routine done and dusted; he stared at her for a second longer; and she started at his lips for even longer.
They both knew the tension in the room was inevitable; someone just had to make a move. McLaren was proper shit during qualifying, so all expectations were nullified even before the race started. With Lando starting in P9 and Oscar in P5, it irked Lando how well Oscar was doing in the same car as him. A rookie driver beating the team's star child was never a pretty image.
The race started with Lando’s car being 2 seconds off the pace of K-Mag, which was really nice for him. As the race progressed, Lando almost made up 3 places by the end of the 38th lap.
However, McLaren messed up Lando in the pits, being stationary for almost 18 seconds. His 6th place turned into a plum last, and to make matters worse, he ended up retiring the car simply out of spite. He knew he was mad, and he showed it really well on the cameras, especially towards his team.
She knew it was a risk to go see Lando, especially after seeing how mad and snappy he looked. She knew he was probably beating himself up over the way this race went. It didn’t help that Oscar ended up on the podium. It was horrible, really, but neither of them could do anything.
He saw her enter his room; he didn’t like that. He didn’t want her to see him like this, all beaten and broken down. He didn’t realise when his tone shifted or when he felt the anger rise up within him.
All she had said was, “It’s not your fault; I know you are going to do better.“ That’s all he let her get out before he exploded.
“I honestly don’t remember asking for your opinion. God, you are so pathetic sometimes, always searching for attention from anyone who spares a glance at you. It’s all your fault; you think it’s funny to come into my room and give me glances right before a race. God, why are you so fucking stupid?"
“Maybe this is why your sister will always be better than you; your parents probably saw that, and so does everyone else when they see you and her together. Look at her; she’s a driver, and look at you sneaking into a driver's room, offering yourself to him all for what?? bloody attention?? Get out. I don’t want to see you anymore. All you’ve done is clutter my brain.”
Y/N walked out of his room with hot tears running down her face, her face all red, and a pounding headache. But what was worse than all that pain combined was the pain running through her heart; it genuinely felt like her heart was snapped into two and stepped on by a herd of elephants.
She didn’t know why he snapped at her; all she wanted was to help him. Everything he said made her fall into a spiralling downfall. All the work she’s done to keep her insecurities hidden and healed, Lando’s words ripped them apart and left them burning red and raw.
#lando x reader#lando norris#f1 x reader#f1 imagine#f1 scenario#formula one#lando norris x reader#mafia!f1#lando norris x y/n#formula 1#hurt/comfort#fluff#landoscar#charles leclerc x wife reader#mafia!charles leclerc#charles leclerc#dad!charles leclerc#fernando alonso x reader#max verstappen fic#carlos sainz x wife reader
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König is, obviously, a big little freak. Do you think he'd feel flattered/lovestruck if a cute girl stalked and was obsessed with him or would he be weirded out? I think the first: for once he gets pussy and love without having to do anything. Also it'd be kinda funny if he didn't even notice his little admirer at first cause she doesn't register as a threat and he's too busy being broody and depressed cause he's so alone (while reader is in her apartment fantasizing about their future kids and drawing little hearts on a pic of him)
Ohhh yes. König being oblivious af, thinks this is simply a joke.
It started out in school: cute little postcards that had bunnies or kittens or flowers or hearts on them, delivered to him by his mom who was smirking about how her boy had a secret admirer. There was nothing fancy scribbled on the other side, just soft, silly messages like: "I like you!" or "Your cute" or "Luv u ♡", and König saved them all.
…Until he showed the postcards to the wrong “friends”, who only made fun of them. One of the boys told him they sent those cards to him as a joke because no girl could ever want him, and König believed them. Allowed himself one, maybe two tears in solitude before he threw those cards away.
What was odd, though, was that the cards still kept coming. He always threw them in the trash, and at some point while growing up, they stopped arriving. No cats or hearts or cute mice illustrations for him anymore, just loads of video games and internet and a growing interest in war history and gym.
He didn’t think much of it after the age of 17, just went to the army to make a man out of himself. Got laid for the first time, got bullied some more, grew some muscle and grew some balls. Got kicked out of sniper training, his one and only dream, and went back home to brood for a few weeks.
That’s when he received the letter.
A 5 page love letter, written in beautiful, whimsical handwriting, smelling of something so angelic that it drove even the eternal stench of gunpowder and rust and military storage away.
König gets plunged into a whole world of soft feminine attention without even asking to, the letter now placed on his old desk that’s too small for him to sit at anymore. The fragrant sheets of paper are filled with confessions of adoration and love and… it would be a little bit creepy, were he a man who fancied so-called normal women.
He goes to the attic, searching his old cardboard boxes for the postcards to compare the handwriting, but can’t find none, remembering that yeah… he threw all of them away, didn’t he? The handwriting wouldn’t match anyway, that much he can remember, but then again it was a kid who wrote to him back then. Now, his admirer is a grown woman who apparently got back on her obsession train once he visited his childhood home after years of living abroad.
The hair on his shins, arms and at the back of his neck shoots up as he realizes some woman has a crush on him, some cute girl has been watching him since day one. Those postcards weren’t a joke, so she must have gone to the same school as him… She might be the daughter of some of their neighbors, living right next to him even now.
König goes door to door in search of her, but only wrinkly elders arrive to tell him that no, they never had a daughter or granddaughter or if they had, they have long since moved out to some big city.
He goes through the letter once again but finds no clues to who she is or where she lives. It’s just pages and pages of flattery about how he’s still the man of her dreams and so much more. How he’s even cuter now that he looks like someone pissed in his cereal. She wonders if he’s built the same everywhere, and if he is, then she should say her evening prayers… Too many impure thoughts going through her head already, why does he have to be so handsome?
König is in hell, as always, desperately trying to look for his admirer when he goes out to take the trash. Visions of some girl touching herself at the thoughts of him pester him from sunrise to sunset, and he has to take a cold shower every morning simply because one wank doesn’t seem to be enough to tame the big fellow downstairs.
He hugs his pillow and dreams of his girl, someone sweet to wrap his arms around and to protect. He fantasizes of someone cute waiting for him, someone he could surprise every time he gets home, someone adorable to eat out until they sob and squirm. Until he gets the stench of death out of his mouth…
A message arrives on his phone from an unknown number, and at first he thinks it’s spam.
But when he opens the message, he’s met with two perfect bare breasts. So fucking cute, especially when they’re accompanied by a set of fingertips grazing her soft skin; König even notices she has red nail polish on. So adorably, incredibly cute…
There comes a text that says: “I thought of sending you another postcard, big boy… But perhaps you don't care for kittens anymore. Hopefully this will do? ❤️”
There’s no face reveal, just tits and a cute female hand laid out there before him. Just a text that confirms that she’s the one. Typing a quick reply, he sends it to the unknown number: “This will more than just do 😳❤️❤️❤️”
Without thinking, like, at all, he pulls out his already hard cock and takes a hurried picture of it with a trembling hand. He usually knows better than to send a dick pic to a girl, especially after exchanging less than two sentences with them. But hey, she started this. The least he can do is give her something to pray about (and for)..
So he sends that horrid picture of his ugly cock to his cute mystery girl before she can even type a reply to the first message, and asks: “Are we praying tonight, my lady?”
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sunshine of your love (law x reader nsfw)
law overhears you talking with ikkaku and takes notes ;^)
18+, mdni, nsfw, wc: 3.4k masterlist
cw: afab!reader, virgin law, masturbation, oral sex (reader receiving), voyeurism kinda, teasing, law's kinda weird but he means well, friends to lovers, ikkaku is your girliepop, virginity loss, law is cocky, law is also a dork, alcohol consumption, hangovers
tagging: @willowbelle @sanjisjuul @eelnoise @kaizokuniichan @risenwrites @ragethebunny @mirillua @sanjisprincesswifey @atanukileaf
This was all a cruel joke—a way for Ikkaku to silently torture him as punishment for finally giving her a roommate on the submarine after all these years—at least that’s what Law tells himself as he listens to the conversation bleeding through too-thin walls into his bedroom.
The two of you had been drinking fairly heavily judging by the volume of your giggles and the way your words slur as you swap stories of escapades, some good, some bad, but mostly mediocre. Truthfully, he couldn’t care less about what Ikkaku gets up to in that respect, but when you speak, he hangs onto every word; the conversation is filthy, beyond explicit, and he now has a tantalizingly crisp image in his mind of exactly what gets you off and what doesn’t, and as drags his hand down his cock, he convinces himself that despite his lack of experience, he can give you what you crave. Part of him felt terrible for touching himself to something as innocent as you talking with your friend, but when you were describing what you like and don’t like in bed in so much detail, what else was he supposed to do with himself?
A lull in the conversation leads to Ikkaku coming up with some silly hypotheticals. “Alright, here’s one for you—fuck, marry kill: Shachi, Law, and…” she says, pausing for a moment while she thinks of a third option, “Me!” A pair of giggles echo through the wall when you immediately respond with a kill Shachi; if Law weren’t busy picturing you splayed out beneath him, he probably would have let out a snort of amusement too.
“Fuck you, marry Law.” you say decisively. Law lets out a hiss as he wills away the inadvertent image that pops into his head of Ikkaku on top of you, pleasuring you in the way he wishes he could—in the position that he should be in. Marry Law. The words bounce around his brain, driving him wild with the prospect of you not just wanting him once out of passing curiosity, but wanting him all the time. He’s wanted you so much, for so long, in every conceivable way, contriving excuses at every turn to spend more time alone with you, and lo and behold, here you were fantasizing about a life with him in your free time.
“Marry Law?” she balks incredulously, “You’re still on about that? I thought you got over that little crush you had—” Law’s hand stops stroking momentarily as Ikkaku’s words send him reeling. Feelings. You had feelings for him; he had wormed his way into your heart just like you had burrowed into his, and all of a sudden, he’s fisting himself with renewed vigor, propelled by the notion that if he plays his cards right, he’ll have the real thing sooner than he could have ever imagined. Images of you float through his mind as electricity courses through his skin—you by his side, you curled up in his lap while you flip through a novel, you laying face down as he fucks you into the mattress—each one carried the same weight of eroticism as he pictures the near future with you.
“I can’t help it!” you exclaim, far too loudly, but you were much too tipsy to be cognizant of the fact that Law’s bedroom was right next door, and despite his night owl tendencies, it was far too late to be lurking elsewhere on the submarine. “We’ve been spending so much time together and he just turns me into a flustered mess! He looks at me and has this look on his face, and I just—ugh, I need him!” you lament, causing Ikkaku to laugh at your plight and tease you further.
Rambling on, you say much more, about how much you cherish your time together, and wax poetic about how you feel a quiet kinship like him, as if he knows the contents of your soul without having to disclose them, but Law was still focused on the frustrated whimper you had let out when you said you needed him, replaying the words in the back of his mind like a broken record until he spills warm seed all over his hand. Guilt washes over him for disregarding your words of gushing adoration in the moment while his mind was preoccupied elsewhere, but he atones for his disrespect by ruminating on your tipsy ramblings as he drifts off to sleep.
The other half of my soul, you had said with a dreamy sigh—they were the exact same words that roll around his head whenever he thinks of you. Though half asleep, he concocts a half-baked plan to execute in the morning, sleepily setting his alarm to ensure he doesn’t miss his window of opportunity.
Law slips into your bedroom with a glass of water, a couple pieces of toast, and four-hundred milligrams of ibuprofen the moment Ikkaku leaves in the morning. Though he had only gotten a couple hours of sleep, the excitement flowing through his veins as he makes his way towards your room intent on subtly making his feelings known with a small gesture overpowers any exhaustion. Completely covered in your blankets from head to toe, the click of Law’s heeled boots against the floor prompts you to pop your head out from underneath, a dusting of red coating your face.
“For the hangover.” he says plainly as he sets the plate and glass on your nightstand. As you sip on the water, he takes in your lips and messy hair and weighs his options and contemplates taking an additional risk with you beyond simply hanging at your bedside for a bit of light conversation; despite how tipsy you had been last night, you’re now more parts pleasant than irritable and dizzy, and cute as a button as you thank him for going to the trouble of bringing you the light breakfast and medicine.
“It’s no trouble.” he insists, staring at you for a moment before committing to the urge in his core that keeps telling him to sling a teasing remark your way. “Besides since you want to get married so badly, I figured I should start taking better care of you.” he says with a smirk as he sits at the foot of your bed, masking his nerves with an aura of feigned confidence, behaving as if he’s made himself comfortable like this dozens of times.
He observes your reaction carefully, searching for any sign of disgust at him for eavesdropping as you turn red from head to toe; instead, he only finds mortification plaguing your face as your gaze turns downward towards your blankets. “I’m so sorry, Captain—” you squeak out, though before you can apologize further, he stops you, and you become acutely aware of the way he’s leaning in a bit closer to you, his hand nearly grazing the side of your leg.
“Why? Are you taking it back?” he asks; his expression is unintentionally blank as he focuses on analyzing the emotions on your own face. In turn, you find yourself unsure of whether he shared your feelings or was simply teasing you for being so brazen and loose-lipped while drunk.
“Only if you’re uncomfortable—” you start, but your voice falters and halts when his hand rests on your thigh and a devilish smirk graces his face.
“Do I look uncomfortable?” he teases, inching closer as he watches a flood of relief crash over your features, releasing your nerves with a shaky exhale.
You shake your head. “No, Captain.” you reply softly, inwardly cringing at the way you’d used his title out of habit. He lets out an exhale of amusement and gets unbearably close, hovering over you as the tension hangs thick in the small space between you.
“You need to relax.”he whispers softly, “Let me help you with that.” He hesitates for a moment before cautiously pressing his lips to yours. Law freezes for a moment before pulling away, admiring the half-lidded look in your eyes; playfully flirting with you while packaging his words in a coating of plausible deniability came naturally to him—the game of slowly pushing the envelope was fun for him—but kissing you, feeling you, and being on top of you were all novel and exhilarating new sensations that send him into a whirlpool of swirling nerves.
After listening to you complain about past experiences, he doesn’t want to disappoint you—he doesn’t want to fade into the back of your memory as another lousy story to tell.
As he gently coaxes your lips back to his, he runs through the laundry list of bad kissing habits you and Ikkaku had agreed upon last night: don’t clash your teeth against hers, don’t slobber in her mouth, don’t go crazy with the tongue. It seemed simple enough, and to an extent it was, as each muffled noise you make against his lips helps him learn, improve, and plan his next step, but everything from the press of your lips to the swirl of your tongue was so foreign and alien to him that he nearly forgets to take notes on what he likes in the process.
His hand creeps upward to cradle the side of your face—it was something you had said you adore, and the sweet, content noises you let out indicate that you were underselling your affection for the motion, if anything; however, what he doesn’t expect is to feel the flush of warmth that covers his face when you mewl against his mouth. He likes making you vocal, he decides, greedily soaking in each little bit of affection and praise you offer him as he slowly picks you apart.
I love getting my neck kissed so much—bites, licks, all of it. Words from last night echo in his head as he presses his lips in a trail down towards the sensitive column of your neck. The simple touches of his mouth along your skin are enough to make you squirm and whimper softly underneath him, giving him the confidence he secretly needs to sink his teeth into your flesh with an intent to mark you.
“You like that?” he purrs in your ear between nips of his teeth and swirls of his tongue against your neck. “Mhm…” you whine out, causing him to let out a small growl as he sucks at your skin. Satisfied with the bright red mark that would no doubt turn purple later, he lets his hovering hips fall, reattaching his lips to yours as he grinds his clothed cock into where he was approximately sure your core was underneath your sheets, and is gratified when he feels your legs spread slightly so he can feel a bit more of you. Succumbing to a haze of lust, Law is nervous but hungry for more—so much so that he becomes afraid of pushing things too far and pulls himself away so he can get a read on your pulse.
Your gazes lock together as you ask each other a silent question—how far do you want to go? A slight tremble courses though his hands; everything was seemingly happening all at once, but the tension between you had been building for months, and he can’t help but want to let everything spill over in this moment. He’s afraid to ask for too much and scare you off, but he’s filled with so much need that it makes him shake as he stares down at you, your lips still moist and kiss bitten.
“I want you, Law.” you whisper, the words traveling like tiny wisps that linger in the air. With a small sigh of relief, he’s resolved to give himself to you, give everything to you and lays the foundation in his head for a coarse path to reach that goal.
And then he moves your sheets, with the intention of being able to press himself closer to your body, and is thrown for a loop.
“Do you normally sleep without—” he stutters, unable to get the rest of his sentence out as he becomes transfixed on your bare lower half. He can’t resist letting one of his inked hands travel downward and rest along the curve of your hips as he takes in the expanse of bare skin, the tufts of wayward hair above your sex, and the hints of slick arousal that have began to creep along your inner thighs.
“No.” you say with a shake of your head, blushing furiously. Averting your eyes from his, you swallow hard before continuing. “I was… y’know…” you mumble, trailing into nothingness out of embarrassment from your admission, hoping it wouldn’t scare him off. Peeking at his reaction reveals quite the opposite as he gives you a feral grin, gears clicking together as he realized why you were hiding under your blanket when he entered the room.
“Couldn’t stop thinking about me, hm?” he hums teasingly, lips nearly grazing your earlobe. The ghost of a sensation makes you twitch, and he purrs with satisfaction at being able to make you squirm without even touching you. “Do you always think about me when you touch yourself?” he asks, letting his hand wander before resting his thumb on your needy bud, tracing light circles onto it, your words about hating when someone is too rough with it sitting clearly in the front of his mind.
“All the time…” you whisper as your back arches up off the mattress; the soft patterns he traces along your sensitive clit make you whimper for him, and the tone of your needy sounds nearly make Law cum on the spot.
“So do I.” he mumbles, the words distant on account of him being consumed by his task of working you up with his fingers. He contemplates going down on you, haphazardly pushing your shirt aside and kissing his way down your body, paying your tits some extra attention along the way, but he has absolutely no clue what to do beyond the theory of it all. Asking for assistance was out of the question—not when he was trying so hard to impress you enough to convince you to tether yourself to him permanently, not when he is so dead set on making sure you don’t realize that this is his first everything; looking incompetent in front of you was not an option, in any sense of the word.
And so, he takes a deep breath and decides to learn through doing.
Now, face settled between your legs, he was truly out of his element. More overheard guidance from the previous night floods his head. Keep your tongue flat and lick from side to side. Don’t fake a ton of obnoxious noises while you do it. It’s okay to roam a little, but keep your attention on the clit. He cyclically runs through each one of your preferences in his mind as he drags his tongue across your bud, instinctively picking up on the right pressure, the right patterns based on your reactions—it’s like a puzzle for him, though instead of clicking pieces into place or filling out a crossword, he’s slowly turning you into a squirming mess with his mouth. If he were any less drunk on the sensation of making you fervently writhe against him, he’d be thrown off by the way you snap your hips harshly along his tongue, doing more work than he feels you should be doing, but he’s simply awestruck by how pretty you look when you’re so intently focused on getting off. You seem so close, and, desperate to do something to push you over the edge, he grips your thighs tightly, making his best attempt at replicating your description of how much you said you enjoy it.
To his pleasant surprise, it works.
And when you come crashing over the edge, with white-hot intensity, he can’t help but slip his tongue inside you, wanting to feel every bit of your arousal on his tongue and experience the way your walls spasm—he wants to feel you coming apart and study it for future reference. You’re gorgeous, with your knuckles twisting and clutching at your bottom sheet, and your face blooming with heat.
He's been so singularly focused on pleasing you, on proving himself and protecting his ego, that he had put his own needs on the backburner, but seeing you glowing, needy, and all for him makes him unable to wait any longer to have you.
Unbuckling his pants, freeing his cock, and lining himself up with your entrance, he's about to slide his length inside of you, but something makes him instinctively pause; he’s not quite sure what’s making him hesitate, until he remembers.
You like to be teased.
He presses the smallest bit into you before withdrawing, making you let out a sigh of frustration. “You want it?” he coos playfully, smirking down at you when you grind your hips towards him in vain.
“Please, Law… I need it…” you whine, slightly pouting your lips out at him.
Please.
“Then take it.” he whispers lowly as he bottoms out inside of you, hiding his burning face in the crook of your shoulder as he’s flooded with another wave of novel sensations. Pride swells in his chest upon hearing you beg for him, plead for him to take you; the feeling is intoxicating, so much so that he nearly forgets that he doesn’t quite know what to do once he’s fully sheathed inside of you. Flailing for only the briefest of moments, he does the only thing he can think of—stop thinking so much, for once.
He acts on instinct, capturing your lips with his and swiping his tongue along your bottom lip clumsily as he rocks his hips into yours, trying to keep his strokes slow and even to prevent himself from getting too overwhelmed before he even truly starts. Soon enough, he regains his head and gets bolder, using your sounds and reactions as cues to make sure he’s barking up the right tree; the more decisive he is with his movements, the more you respond, and the better he can get a read on you.
But right now, he can’t see your face, opting instead to bury his own into the crook of your neck, scattering any patch of skin he can reach with kisses and love bites as he gives you surer, more intense strokes; just when he thinks he’s ascended to the truest form of a higher plane, completely dissolved into something intangible and forever mixed with you, he feels you do something that drives him even more wild. It’s paradoxical, how much he loves it when you wrap your legs around him; he so badly wants to be caged in by you, an eternal mess of tangled limbs, but the action is so intimate, so comfortable that it sends him spiraling unbearably close to the edge.
“Where do you want me to—” he rasps, unable to spit the rest of his words out as the way he buries himself deep inside you makes him gasp sharply.
“Anywhere.” you reply, the word dipped in layers of lust. He laments his inability to last longer, but the way you fit around his cock like a tight glove combined with the pretty, fucked out look on your face makes him unable to keep his composure.
A slew of whispered curses fall from his lips as he pulls out and spurts ropes of hot cum onto your lower stomach. Mesmerized by the look of his seed spread over your skin as he catches his breath, he takes a few moments to fall back down from space before planting a kiss on your lips.
“Thank you…that was… wow.” you say quietly with a smile, mind still scrambled as he haphazardly wipes you clean with the tissues that sit on your nightstand.
“Thank yourself.” he replies teasingly, pressing kisses along your collarbone as he settles in bed behind you, “You’re the one who gave me the detailed instructions.” His words make your cheeks flush as you nuzzle into his touch, his hands lacking their usual chill as they trace patterns into your skin.
“My other half.” he murmurs gently into your ear, in a hushed tone so quiet that you nearly think you’ve dreamt it.
A soft, lazy smile drifts onto your face. “My other half.” you echo, lacing your fingers with his and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before nodding off back to sleep together.
#one piece x reader#trafalgar law x reader#trafalgar law smut#law smut#law x reader#trafalgar law x you#law x you#trafalgar law x y/n#law x y/n#one piece fanfiction#one piece smut#one piece scenario#trafalgar law#x reader
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James Potter x shy!fem!reader
Summary: You've never had your first kiss — well not until you stupidly kiss the boy you've had a crush on since forever, the same boy who happens to be your best friend.
Genre: Fluff, some angst, happy ending!
Warnings: swearing, mention of mild injuries, insecurities around kissing, misunderstandings, lovesick!James <3
At this hour the Gryffindor common room is lit by multiple candles and lanterns and chills run up your arms from the midnight air as you hug your knees.
On the ground, Lily Evans sits across from you, next to James Potter, and Marlene Mckinnon is on James's left. Sirius Black sits next to you and Remus Lupin next to him. It's amusing how quickly and well you've all managed to form a deformed circle.
You look at Lily. Her fiery auburn hair is pinned behind her by her quill and she's dressed in a blue sweatshirt, with knitted daisies on the sleeves, and a pair of worn out plaid pajama bottoms.
Marlene, who is sitting criss-cross with her elbows on her knees, is wearing her uniform without her cloak and her sandy-blonde hair falls down her shoulders.
James is also dressed in his uniform but, along with his cloak, his gray sweater is nowhere to be seen and he's only in his white chemise. He's undone his Gryffindor tie to hang loosely around his neck.
You glance at Sirius next, who much like his best friend, looks equally as relaxed. He's in a maroon cardigan and black sweatpants. He's also lazily pulled his hair into a half-up half-down situation, leaving array strands that frame his cheekbones.
Remus, unlike his friends, is wearing his uniform as he would in class and when you look at him you can see that his cloak lays on the arm of the armchair behind him. When Remus sees you looking, he smiles.
"Come on, Y/n." Marlene exclaims. She sounds exasperated. You follow her gaze onto the glass bottle in front of you. Your eyes then move upwards until, again, you're met with Remus's dark, hazelnut, eyes and his friendly smile.
Immediately, you look away and fiddle with your hands. "It's just a kiss." Marlene insists.
Sure, just a kiss, easy for Marlene to say, she isn't nearly as close to Remus as you are. Plus, Marlene has no clue this kiss would be your first. You close your eyes, cursing yourself. You knew you shouldn't have joined the game.
"Y/n doesn't have to kiss me if she's uncomfortable, McKinnon." Remus states calmly.
"It's okay." Sirius jumps in, his hand brushing yours, and he leans over. This time, he spins the bottle, "Anyways, it's my turn now." He winks.
You relax a little and glance shyly at Remus, who only sends you a reassuring smile. Your eyes wander to James. It's always unintentional, you convince yourself, and as usual his expression is unreadable. Your heart squeezes when his eyes lock with yours.
However, your small moment of peace as you look at James is broken as soon as the bottle stops spinning and it points at you. Everyone is silent until Sirius asks hesitantly, "Shall I spin again?"
* * *
You haven't moved from the ground.
Your three best friends stand over you, all of them wearing concerned expressions as you hide behind your hands, "I ruined it," You mumble sadly.
"It was just a silly game," Sirius promises, crossing his arms, "So what you didn't want to kiss Remus and I? It doesn't matter."
You tense. You look at them. Remus seems nervous as he scans you up and down.
James still has this unreadable look in his eye, but the moment he kneels down and touches your knee, you relax, "What's really bothering you, love?" He asks.
"It's stupid."
"Nothing you could say is stupid to us, Y/n/n." Remus speaks up, immediately accompanied by Sirius's enthusiastic nod as he crosses his legs, sitting down, and leans his arms across his knees. He sends you a lopsided smirk and tilts his head. Remus crouches next to him and James has his knees bent with you sitting inside them. His hand brushes up to skim your hair near your cheek.
"I'vejustneverhadmyfirstkiss." You admit quietly.
"You have to speak up, doll." Sirius chuckles.
"I've just never had my first kiss and I thought I wouldn't care but it was weirdly intimidating." You feel your cheeks burn as you look at the boys. Sirius and Remus are speechless for a while until they look at one another and smile,
"That's not stupid, Y/n. Or embarrassing. It's cute and completely normal." Remus reassures you and pats your knee. "We understand that you want your first kiss to be with someone you care about and not your dimwitted best friends."
You don't think their dimwitted but nod anyway. Once more your gaze drifts to James and your breath catches in your throat. He's staring. It's intoxicatingly intimidating.
"You haven't kissed anyone?" James blurts out as if he's surprised, which only makes you more embarrassed. "I just assumed," He starts to explain but is immediately interrupted by Sirius,
"You do realize not having had your first kiss yet doesn't mean no one wants you, yeah?" He asks seriously and you nod weakly. You knew that, but it also never feel amazing when no one shows any interest in you.
Remus stands up, dusts his pants, and then he pats your head as you look up at him, "You'll find someone you'll want to kiss sooner than you think, Y/n/n." He smiles as if he knows something you don't.
Sirius follows Remus and stands over you. You look at James, who is also still on the ground, and you don't dare move. "Moony and I are going to bed, it's late." Sirius says.
"You coming, Prongs?" Remus's voice is light.
James looks at you. He pauses and his eyes seem to vibrate a moment as he looks around the room. Your body burns for him to stay where he is but when he stands up, you feel crushed.
So that's why everyone calls it a crush, you realize as James tells you he's joining the others. Your body feels as if it switched on autopilot when you take James's extended hand and he pulls you up to stand in front of him.
"Night," He mumbles, cheeks flushed. He doesn't move. Sirius and Remus have since disappeared upstairs to the boy's dorms and it feels like years pass as James stares at you.
You blame the whiskey for what happened next. Without thinking, or maybe because you'd thought about this moment too much, you take James's cheeks in your hands, pull him into you, and kiss him.
It's more of an inexperienced peck on the lips but as soon as they touch, your eyes snap open and you realize what you've done. You pull away, hands faltering around James's face.
His eyes are round and he's breathing hard. When you feel his hand hesitate at your waist, you jump and move away from him. You want to speak but you can't make your mouth work.
"Y/n," James starts. You read his expression as embarrassed and your heart drops. You can't think of a smart thing to say or do as you panic so you turn around and practically sprint up the stairs to your dorm.
You slam the door behind you, waking your roommates as they grumpily shift in their beds. Quite dramatically, you lean against the door, hands shaking against the wood as your mind feels like it's running a thousand miles per hour.
* * *
James can't sleep. He's been tossing and turning in his bed for almost three hours now but all he can think about is you.
He can't shake the feel of your hands on his cheeks or the way your lips touched his. He didn't kiss you back, he remembers, and he physically cringes as he turns around onto his stomach, wraps his arms around his pillow and muffles his scream.
"You okay, mate?" Sirius's voice cuts into the silent room.
"No." James mumbles, turning onto his back again as he stares into the darkness and gently skims his lips with his fingers.
"What happened?" Remus asks, voice hoarse and tired.
James's brain is too tired to think of anything rational. He's only been thinking of you since you ran away from him and he can't stop himself from admiring, "She kissed me."
* * *
Surprisingly, you've managed to avoid James for a little more than a week. In fact, you'd been avoiding your two other best friends just as long. You knew James must have told them, and they must find it absolutely hilarious.
"James is worried about you, Y/n." Lily says one morning as you both walk to the Quidditch Pitch. You tense at the sound of his name. "He wants me to make sure you're doing okay." She continues when you just wish wouldn't.
"Never been better, Lil" You lie, fidgeting with your Gryffindor scarf and adjusting your hat. "You can tell him that the next time you see him." You say, voice as unemotional as you can manage.
"You should tell him yourself, after his game." Lily tries to explain softly, "He misses you. He probably hasn't come up to you because he wants to give you space since — you know."
You cringe, wishing you hadn't told Lily about your kiss with James.
"Yeah, I know." You whisper. You feel like a broken record repeating the same words in an endless circle, "It was stupid, it didn't mean a thing, he doesn't see me as anything more than a friend", so you stay quiet until you find decent seats in the stands.
Lily didn't mention Remus would be with Marlene so when you see him, nose buried in a book, hair falling around his face, you almost turn around.
"Y/n/n?" Remus calls. He stands and looks at you so kindly you feel guilty, "Hi." He seems happy you didn't run away from him.
"Hi." You say, hesitantly walking next to him and grasping the edge of the stands with your hands until you kind of feel the splinters in your palm.
A moment of silence passes and then Remus says, "Congrats on the top score in Charms, yesterday. Pads, Prongs, and I were extremely proud." He's trying to sound normal and you feel a little better that he didn't mention the reason you've been ignoring him.
"Thanks." You smile, which earns you a smile from Remus too. However, your attention is pulled away by the teams being called out.
You feel a little nauseous when you see James fly onto the pitch. He does an obnoxious little trick on his broom and then waves but it's painfully obvious in his eyes he's searching for someone in the crowd. When they land on you, his smile falters as you snap your entire head away from him.
When the game starts, you try to look at other players but you're drawn to him. In fact, by half-time you're so immersed in the way James glides around in the air, hair messier and messier, that you don't realize one of the bludgers is whizzing directly towards you.
Remus shouts your name as time stands still. Your instinct is to turn your head and squeeze your eyes shut. You prepare yourself to feel something hit you, but instead all you feel is someone's nails skimming your cheek as the students around you gasp.
Your eyes open just in time to see James fall to the ground, broom crashing onto the grass without him, as his arms hold the bludger. He hits his head with a smack and rolls onto his stomach.
Entire rows of students are on their feet now, eyes wide, as James wrestles with the rogue bludger, which squirms against him.
As if in a trance, your fingers press on your cheek where James must have accidentally scratched you when he flew in to snatch the bludger. You hear the whistles and shouts from the teachers and the next thing you know, you're sitting in the hospital wing with James next to you.
He presses an ice pack to his temple and then holds it out to you. You look at him timidly and shake your head.
"What happened out there?" You ask, breaking the awkward tension.
"Oh, um, someone must have enchanted the bludger and it went crazy. Happens sometimes. Ravenclaws are cheaters." He grimaces as he applies more pressure to his head.
"Does it hurt?" You look at him more closely.
James sends you a familiar smirk, "Yeah and if I puke from my concussion, I'll make sure I puke on you."
"Pass." You retort immediately, scrunching your nose with a chuckle. For a moment, you both overlook what happened between you two and it almost feels like normal.
"You don't understand how much I missed that." James points out, dramatically flopping onto his back on the mattress. You turn and raise your eyebrows,
"What?"
"Your laugh. You." He admits. You feel faint.
Still, you lay down next to him and cross your arms over your stomach, "Yeah." Is all you say because you don't know what else you can say.
"Our kiss doesn't have to count." He blurts out in a very James fashion and you turn your head a little to look at him. He has a lip in his mouth and his eyebrows are furrowed. You feel an ache in your chest at his words and you whisper,
"Why?" You find yourself asking.
James looks at you now, your noses almost touching, "Because, I want your first kiss to be with someone special, Y/n. Not with a boy who couldn't even bring himself to kiss you back." His laugh sounds gloomy.
Your cheeks start to burn and you look at the ceiling, "It's my fault. I was a little drunk and I completely ambushed you. It was wrong and I'm sorry."
You can hear the silence. James pauses, "Why have you been avoiding me?" He sounds hurt and it's his comment that finally makes you realize just how much you'd been hurting your best friends over this last week.
"I've been embarrassed." You cover your face with your hands.
"I don't want you to be embarrassed." He sits up and you do the same as James starts to ramble, "I- listen - I just need to know, do you like me, Y/n?"
You're a little taken aback by the question, "Of course I like you, James. You're my best friend." It doesn't even cross your mind that he could mean romantically.
He frowns, "No, that's not what I mean." You're extra aware of your heart suddenly, "Why did you want me as your first kiss?"
You remember all the times James has been the only boy you've ever wanted to kiss. Like the time in first year when he'd been the only one to stand up to the bulky fifth year that had called you a mudblood in the courtyard. Or your birthday picnic in fourth year, where James spent hours making flapjacks because you'd mentioned in passing that they were your favorite childhood dessert.
How could you not want him as your first kiss?
You lay back on the bed and turn your head. Slowly, James follows until you're so close again, "I - I'm not exactly sure." You admit, "I don't think I even imagined my first kiss with anyone else." Something shifts in the air as you can see in James's eyes that he understands exactly what you want to say.
"Oh." James whispers. You both subconsciously move in closer.
"Yeah." You mumble, eyes fluttering as your noses brush.
"So, can I kiss you again?" He asks, breathlessly.
"Yes." You say and feel him gently caress your cheek with his knuckles. When you kiss, it's so different than when you first kissed him. This time, he's actually kissing you back. His lips are velvety and the way he moves them makes you feel dizzy. It's surreal to have him in this way.
"I've wanted you to kiss me for so long." James admits breathlessly between the kiss.
"Really?" You pull away.
"Yeah. It was quite pathetic really." He laughs in embarrassment.
"Why didn't you try?" You ask, looking at him and tracing his jawline with your index.
"I don't know. I was too nervous." James frowns, "But, I'm happy you kissed me – even if it certainly was a surprise."
"Yeah, I'm sorry." You say bashfully.
James kisses you again, his hand on your cheek, "No. No sorries anymore. Just kisses."
"Okay," You smile, "I can do that."
* * *
You and James have managed to keep your new relationship secret for a while. Well, until two weeks later, when the boys invite everyone over to their dorm for a small party.
You sit next to James, his hand resting behind you, as your friends continue to laugh in drunken amusement.
"Okay, who's spinning this baby first?" Sirius slurs, excitedly, as he sets the empty glass bottle in the center of you all, "Doll, you don't have to play if you don't wanna." He looks at you sympathetically.
You smile at Sirius, "I wanna spin it." You lean forward on your hands and before anyone can even think to protest, you spin the bottle.
"Y/n," James stutters out but his words fail in his throat when he sees you intentionally hold the nose of the bottle to point at him.
You look up and smirk, "Oups." You tease with a wink and return to sit cross-cross next to James.
Your boyfriend smiles and gently turns your head with his hand on your chin. He presses a kiss to your lips. They taste like cherry liquor and you feel him relax. You kiss him once more before you let him pull away and the silence in the room is deafening.
"I think we definitely missed something, mates." Sirius whispers to the others and then he turns to you and James and asks, "Are you spinning, Prongs?"
James kisses your cheek and then looks up at his friend, "Does it look like I wanna spin, Pads?" Sirius shakes his head awkwardly and James continues, "Y/n and I will sit this game out."
He stands and helps you up. You stumble into him a little, a wide smile on your lips, and wave to your friends as James walks you out the door and into the Common Room.
All you hear before the door shuts is Remus's small, "Fucking finally." followed by soft chuckles.
#james potter x you#james potter fluff#james potter smut#james potter#james potter x reader#james potter imagine#james potter fanfic#james potter fanfiction#james potter imagines#james potter x y/n#marauders imagine#marauders imagines#marauders#marauders fic#harry potter#harry potter fanfiction#hp marauders#hp fanfic
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okay i was wondering if you could a joel x fem reader maybe even dbf joel where it’s loosely based on the song diet mountain dew by lana del rey? like the pining part of it and also the lyric “let’s take jesus of the dashboard” THATS SO HOT TO ME SO IDK
ive never requested anything before soo hope this is okay 🫣🫣
ahhhhhh, this one is a doozy
Ride It
pre-outbreak!Joel Miller x f!reader
joel milller masterlist
She calls her dad's co-worker for a ride and gets a little more than she was expecting.
warnings | 18+ SMUT, age gap, DBF!joel, and not much else y'all
............................
“Hello?”
“Mr. Miller?” She can hear sheets rustling, his gruff sigh over the crackling receiver.
“It’s late, honey. What’s wrong?” Her heart stutters at the sweet name he calls her, the same name he’s called her since she first met him when her dad started working for Miller Construction four years ago.
“It’s my car. I think I have a flat tire and I can’t drive on it.” A long sigh filters through the phone.
“You should call your dad. He’s probably worried sick about you.”
“No! I can’t– he’s gonna be so pissed. Please, Mr. Miller. Would you– would you come get me? I know you’re good with cars and all. Please?” Another long sigh.
“Alright, honey. Will you tell me where you are?” She does, pulled over on the shoulder of the highway, a little ways out of the city but nowhere near home.
“Hang tight, I’m coming.”
“Thank you, Mr. Miller.”
“I’ve told you a thousand times– just Joel, honey.”
“Thank you, Joel.”
“I’ll be there soon.” She clicks her cell phone shut with a sigh, slumping back in the driver’s seat of her car. Her stomach swirls in anticipation. Normally, she’d try to tamp down the crush she’s had on Joel for quite some time, but after a night out in the city with a few of her old high school friends, she’s just warmed up enough to let her mind race with thoughts of him. It’s silly, something that could never really happen, seeing as her dad has been best friends with Joel for years. But it wasn’t impossible, was it? After all, he’s younger than her dad, and only fifteen years older than her. Jesus christ, get a grip. She huffs, shaking her head to still her thoughts as she looks out at the pitch-black Texas night.
It isn’t long before headlights are brightening up the inside of her car and she turns in her seat to see Joel’s familiar pick up truck pulling up behind her.
….
The rosary that hangs off her rear-view mirror is swaying harshly, the only sound beside their harsh panting and the sticky slap of skin is it clinking into the windshield over and over again. She’s not entirely sure how they got here, a mixture of late night talking and boundaries being flirted with until they both gave in to something they couldn’t have in the light of day.
“Shit, honey– fucking squeezing me– bit of a stretch for you, huh?” A high-pitched whine falls from her lips, her nails digging into the fabric of his unbuttoned flannel. Joel lets out a breathy laugh.
“That’s it, bounce on it for me, there you go– fuck– boys at school just not cutting it, are they? Need someone with a little more skill.” He punctuates his last word with a jolting thrust up that has the swollen tip of his cock grazing a spot so deep inside her it makes her crumple up against him, his rough fingers digging into her ass to support her as he starts a jagged rhythm of his own.
“C’mon, miss college. Use your words. Who’s making you feel so good?” She hadn’t been expecting it, a surprised yelp leaving her lips when he smacks the curve of her ass, hard, broad palm sure to leave a mark. There is nothing comfortable about the position they’re in, her straddling his lap, scrunched over him in the driver seat, one hand pressed up against the car door window while the other digs into his shoulders for stability. But all she can focus on is the sweet snap of pain and pleasure licking up her spine with each of his thrusts.
“You, Joel– you feel so good– want more– please, please–” Her words die in her throat when he thrusts up particularly hard, pressing her hips down to meet him and holding her there in a deep grind. She lets out a choked sob of his name, cunt clenching hard around him and coaxing a low moan from the back of his throat.
“Been wanting this for a while, haven’t you, honey?” His words are a smear against her bare chest where he had tugged down the front of her dress and bra, leaving harsh grazes of his teeth to the swell of her tits. He chuckles when the only response she gives him is a preening whine.
“Fucking knew it. You think I didn’t see how you were looking at me? Practically begging for it– shit– dirty little thing, aren’t you? What would your old man say, huh? Does he know his daughter’s just a little slut?” His voice is a southern slur stamped hotly into her skin, low and drawling and all melted together, pushing her even closer to the brink as her wetness starts to smear down hers and Joel’s thighs, the sound of skin slicking and sticking with each thrust becoming impossibly lewd. It’s almost too much when his one hand dips under her rucked up skirt, fingers harshly toying with her clit.
“Give it to me, honey. Make a fucking mess, c’mon.” The pleasure floods over in an instant, the only sound she can make is a breathy chant of his name as her hips seize up and she spasms around him. He’s not far behind as he thrusts into her a few more times before his hips stutter to a stop and she feels his warmth spreading inside her. She clings to him, both of them breathing hard and flushed with pleasure.
“Jesus christ, I’m sorry– I should’ve–”
“S’fine, I’m on the pill.” He throws his head back into the headrest at that, chest still heaving. But he doesn't stay still for long, jostling her in his hold as he suddenly leans forward and yanks the rosary still clinking into the windshield clean off the rearview mirror, tossing it haphazardly onto the passenger seat. She quirks an eyebrow at him as he settles back into the seat.
“Damn noise was driving me insane.”
#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x you#joel miller x reader#joel miller#joel miller au#joel miller imagine#tlou#the last of us#tlou fanfiction
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i doubt it helps, but i also think eddie is the type to try to be respectful at a family holiday party but ultimately end up wanting to fuck you in a guest room or finger you in a closet at the very least 🫠
Hahahahaha this made it so much worse in the best possible way, I love you anon.
Bad for the Holidays
Eddie Munson x Fem!reader
Note: I wrote most of this in my childhood bedroom while visiting home for thanksgiving. So this got very real, guys Lmao
Warnings: NSFW, 18+ ONLY!, teasing, dirty talk, pet names (Princess, bad girl, baby girl), alcohol consumption, oral sex (m receiving), PIV sex / unprotected sex, hand job, cum eating, semi public sex? (Your family is in the same house at the time)
Eddie Munson never thought he’d find himself at a holiday party straight out of a fucking Norman Rockwell painting, but then again he’d never thought he’d meet someone like you. Someone funny and kind and intelligent while simultaneously cool as hell and hot as hell. You’re everything he’d never let himself hope for, and he’s nothing like what he believes you deserve. Not that you listen to him when he voices his fears over not being good enough for you.
“Stop fidgeting, Eddie. This isn’t a big deal,” you whisper to him as the two of you stand on your door step. You pry open his tense fist to hold his hand in yours and he takes a deep breath, looking down at your smile. “They’re gonna love you.”
“Yeah but what if…what if they don’t?” Eddie mumbles. His brow is furrowed and his lips pout and all you want to do is kiss his frown away. But you know there’s no time for that. So you shake your head and squeeze his hand.
“I love you, so that’s all that matters,” you reassure him. “But this conversation is silly because they’re gonna love you.”
And you’re right. Of course. How could people not love Eddie? Especially people who loved you and who wanted to see you happy. And Eddie makes you the happiest you’ve ever been, and that just radiates off you when you walk into the room, proud to show off your boyfriend.
Eddie’s rough around the edges when you first meet him, sure. But he’s gone to great lengths to appear even more presentable than usual tonight, wearing a clean black button down and black jeans that don’t even have any holes in the knees. Before long, and exactly as you knew would happen, Eddie’s regaling your extended family with stories about his friends back in Hawkins and about life on tour as an up snd coming musician.
It’s pretty late by the time things start winding down. The dinner’s long done, your parents have gone to sleep and most of the older family members have puttered off with leftovers in tow. That’s just left you and Eddie with the crowd closer to your age - and amalgamation of cousins and friends of the family in their early to mid twenties. You all play a few rounds of board games and a few glasses of wine deep, Eddie starts looking way more appetizing than the holiday dinner.
You stare at him over your wine glass as one of your cousins prattle’s on about some drama going on at her job. But you can barely hear her because you’re watching Eddie pal around with Josh, your neighbor who you’d crushed on growing up. Next to Eddie, neighbor boy is absolutely nothing, an observation you make silently and with pride. Your boyfriend has an easy air to him, lounging back against the couch as he speaks, legs spread wide and casual. He looks completely at ease, comfortable in his spread out position. If you weren’t still in front of family you’d walk right over there and straddle him there and then. You lick your lips and silently hate him for the way he’s done absolutely nothing and yet has fully managed to get you salivating from afar. It’s unfair.
You couldn’t possibly know, however, just how much you’ve been driving him crazy all night. Bending over to pick things up in your tight little party dress. Munching on appetizers behind your red lips, licking your fingers clean of any crumbs or sauce. Pushing up against him when the two of you passed through narrow hallways and through crowded parts of the house.
He’s been working so hard not to pop an erection in this, the most inappropriate of venues, that he’s spent the last half hour practically avoiding you. When he looks up from his conversation with your boring neighbor, however, just to find you fucking him with your eyes from across the room, he thinks he’s going to combust.
You notice him frown when you finally catch his eye, but you don’t care enough to wonder what’s bothering him. Instead you wink at him - making his jaw drop - before raising your arms in a theatrical stretch with a matching dramatic yawn.
“God, I’m beat. Got a long drive home tomorrow,” you say to nobody in particular. Friends and family try to protest but you jump up and haul Eddie along after you, dragging him out the door.
When you finally make it to your childhood bedroom, you push Eddie towards the bed and lock the door all in one swift motion. You’ve kicked off your shoes and you’re reaching for the zipper of your dress before Eddie’s grabbing at your hips to stop you.
“What in the world are you doing?” he asks through gritted teeth, panic in his eyes. He’s sitting on your bed with you standing in front of him, his hands holding your wrists motionless to halt your effort to disrobe.
“I…I’m trying to get naked. And you should be doing the same,” you reply. Confused by the question in the first place. Eddie gazes up at you with. Wide eyes.
“But your family is like…right outside.”
“So?” you ask, now genuinely confused.
“And you’re tryna…you want to…”
“Fuck. I wanna fuck you. What’s the problem?” You let out an incredulous laugh. His grip loosens on your wrists so you circle your arms around his neck, massaging his shoulders. He seems to grapple for words so you continue to speak. “I don’t get it. You fuck me with my roommates in the next room all the time!”
“First of all, Nancy and Robin have made us listen to them having sex all the time and you know it,” he huffs immediately, but then returns to looking stressed. “And I’m friend with them. I don’t need to impress them…”
Your heart flips at the sentiment but you shake your head.
“You don’t need to impress anyone here either,” you argue, but Eddie’s having none of it. He springs to his feet in front of you, gripping your waist to pull you against him.
“That’s not fucking true and you know it, Princess.” He runs an aggravated hand through his curly hair. “I’m a freak. Your family wants - at least they should want - someone better for you than—,”
“Shut up. Shut up shut up,” you hiss, smacking his chest lightly with your open palm. “Nobody here knows your reputation from Hawkins, and even if they did, it wouldn’t matter because I’m fucking head over heels for you. You got that?”
“Yes ma’am,” Eddie says weakly, the ghost of a smile starting to curl at the corners of his mouth at how worked up you got all of us sudden.
“Now,” you say definitively, taking a step back to put your hands on your hips and take a deep breath. “I had three glasses of wine and I’m feeling…” you cast about for the right word and not being able to remember the word ‘horny’ you say the next best thing you can think of “…frisky. So you’re going to shut up and fuck me, snd you’re going to like it. Understand.”
Eddie looks dumbfounded, gazing at you with a mix of adoration, awe, and humor. He nods emphatically and you take another shuddering breath.
“Ok good. Help me take my clothes off.”
You expect him to crowd you. To throw you on the bed and rip off your dress and be on you so fast you barely see him coming.
Instead he walks over to you slowly, his eyes dark and lips pulled into a small smile. He steps around you to find the zipper you’d struggle with, lips finding the back of your neck as he pushes the zip all the way down to the curve of your lower back. He kisses his way over your shoulder as he pushes the fabric down and off your body. You shiver under his lips and the cool air you’re now exposed to. His hands find the front clasp of your bra - after making a pitstop to squeeze your breasts - and soon your bra joins your dress on the floor.
Eddie mouths at the side of your throat now as his hands grope every square inch he can reach, the bulge in his jeans pressing into your ass through the thin fabric of your panties.
It’s Heaven. Or close. The only thing is that it is noticeably, deafeningly quiet.
“W-why - oh. Why aren’t you saying anything?” you mumble out. Eddie chuckles against your skin and hips at your ear lobe.
“Told me to shut up,” he whispers. His hand slides forward to cup your mound and you swallow a moan.
“Oh so now you listen to what I tell you,” you bristle. Eddie’s chuckle vibrates through you again and you grind back against him intentionally. You grab his hand and shove it into your panties, no longer satisfied being touched through the fabric.
“I forgot. My baby’s feeling…frisky.” His voice is low and rich with amusement and sensuality. You huff but don’t protest because his big, thick fingers are finally where you wanted them all night. Swirling through your slick, his middle finger prodding at your entrance but not yet pushing in.
You try to step forward to urge him toward the bed, but Eddie pushes you to the side, his free hand coming to brace up against the wall in front of you.
“Not so fast. That bed is squeaky as hell,” he mutters between kisses to your shoulder.
“Well yeah. It’s almost as old as me,” you say, rolling your eyes.
“Yeah, and you squeak under me all the time too, Princess.” You go to roll your eyes again at his cocky tone but the quickly roll back into your head as he shoves not one but two fingers into your tight heat. You let out a high pitched squeal that you do your best to smother with your hand and he laughs. “See? What did I tell you?”
You don’t say anything at first because you’re so lost in the feeling of finally getting what you want. Eddie leans his weight against you as he picks up momentum with his hand, and you find your front getting pressed up against the wall.
“Needed you aaaaaall fucking day, Princess. You’re absolutely infuriating,” Eddie says raggedly into the back of your neck. His fingers hook up and you gasp at the added pleasure.
“How am I - oh god. In…infuriating?” you barely manage to ask in response.
“Tried to be on my best behavior. But you had to prance around looking like a fucking wet dream, didn’t you?”
“I didn’t do anything…” you try to argue, but Eddie snaps the waistband of your panties, stretched out as they are from his fingering, and you flinch.
“Oh yeah? Then why did I know the color of your panties by the time we started dinner?”
He’s right of course. You’d been intentionally finding reasons to bend over in front of him, or cross and uncross your legs in front of him - anything to draw his attention between your thighs. As if his attention was ever anywhere else to begin with.
“Wanted to make me slip up, huh? Wanted me to drag you into the bathroom in the middle of dinner and fuck your brains out?”
“Yes!” you gasp, though you’re less sure that you’re affirming his statement and more sure that your orgasm is fast approaching. “Oh fuck, Eddie.”
“Bend over,” he says suddenly. His voice is more demanding than usual and a thrill runs up your spine. He steps back and gives you room, which you use to shuffle a bit to the side and lean over, bracing your palms against the seat of an old wicker chair you’ve had in your room since elementary school. With your ass up, you half worry that Eddie will forget where you are and spank you loudly, but he seems to remember and opts to grope you instead. He slides your panties to your ankles and you step out of them, widening your stance in a way that has him humming appreciatively behind you.
You steal a glance over your shoulder to confirm the suspicion that he is, in fact, fisting his hard cock, staring at your ready pussy and lining himself up.
“You play the good girl so well, but you’re just a bad girl for me, isn’t that right Princess?” Eddie asks as he pushes the tip of his cock in a circle around your aching entrance. You whine at the fact that he’s not yet inside you, trying to push back to make him slide in. Eddie laughs and grips you by your hips, hauling them higher and making your knees shake. “Look at you. Not even listening because you want my cock that bad.”
You toss a glare over your shoulder at him.
“Eddie if you don’t get inside me right - fuck!” You hiss through your teeth when he slides all the way into you at once. One hand slides down the small of your back, up your spine, to grip solidly at the back of your neck as he wastes absolutely no time getting a good pace going.
The slap of skin on skin ringing out in your small childhood bedroom is absolutely obscene, as are the whimpers that spill out of you despite your best efforts.
“Eddie…so fucking - oh!”
You’re trying to tell him how good he’s making you feel, but you’re sure he’s able to gather that from the way you’re completely unable to finish your statement. Eddie’s chuckle vibrates into your body and you reach back one hand to clutch at his where it holds you at your hip.
“Feels good, baby? Hm?” he asks, almost mockingly but you can’t muster enough energy to reply in any way aside from genuine.
“Feels so good, Eds,” you whimper. Despite his teasing, the way you’re scrabbling to make contact with him tugs at his heartstrings. He lifts his hand up from your hip enough to grab your reaching one.
“Christ, even when you’re a bad girl, you’re still so fucking sweet,” he mumbles, leaning down over you to press bruising kisses to your back and shoulders. You pant beneath him and relish in the additional contact.
“Eddie…mmm Eddie. So full.”
“Fuck. You can’t say shit like that when you haven’t cum yet, princess. I’m only fucking human, I’m gonna fucking blow.”
“Good! Give it to me,” you whine out, and Eddie pretty much loses it.
“Ok, come here my lil greedy baby,” Eddie says gruffly, though not without humor. He pulls out of you - and he has to shush you when you whine in protest - before hauling you around so that he’s sitting on your wicker chair and sliding you into his lap.
“Fucking yes. Oh my god yes.” You’re practically crying now as Eddie gets straight to bouncing you up and down on his cock. You cling to him, your fingers tightening in his wild curly hair as you breathe heavily and gaze at him with unfocused eyes.
“You’re just a horny little mess, aren’t you?” Eddie chuckles darkly. You nod and grip at his shoulders so the leverage let’s you help him move you up and down on his lap. Eddie kisses at the hollow at the base of your throat before looking back into your hazy eyes. “Hey. You with me?” He lightly taps your cheek with his palm when you don’t respond, so far gone in pleasure.
“Y-yeah?” you hiccup. Since you’re bouncing enough on your own shaking thighs, Eddie’s able to slide a free hand from the meat of your hips down to start playing at your clit. So you’re even farther gone now.
“Did you bring any turtlenecks in that little suitcase of yours?” Eddie asks you and your brow knits on what he finds to be a cute little scrunch as you struggle to comprehend the question.
“Yeah I brought one—oh my fucking god…”
Before you’d even finished answering his question, Eddie’s sucking and nipping at the skin of your throat. An action he knows can send you over the edge.
And it does.
You cum in a burst of pleasure that has you rocking against Eddie desperately, clinging to him as you do your best to keep him inside you at the deepest point for as long as possible.
Eddie, to his credit, let’s you do what you want with him. He holds your face in his hands and presses your foreheads together, nodding at your quiet moans.
“There it is. That’s what you wanted, sweet girl? That’s it.”
He’s patient as you come down from your high, but it’s his dick that twitches expectantly inside you which reminds you he still has to cum.
You do your best to start bouncing again, but your legs are shaky. Eddie laughs and stills you, his big hands on your waist, and you grumble.
“Shhh don’t worry about that. It’s good enough just hold you,” he reassures you. You look at him with bleary, pleasure soaked eyes.
“No. You need to cum, too,” you insist. Eddie shrugs, clearly content.
“Having my dick deep inside you is enough of a win, Princess,” he says with a chuckle.
But you’re having none of it. You struggle to your feet and then slide down to the floor in front of him to settle down on your knees. Eddie’s eye go wide and you grip his wet cock, fisting up and down on his lap.
“In high school I wouldn’t even listen to songs with dirty lyrics. Now my boyfriend’s dick is out while he sits on my reading chair in my childhood bedroom,” you observe irreverently with a laugh. Eddie joins in, though his laugh is more strained the longer you jerk him off.
“That’s what I was saying. Everyone thinks you’re so innocent. And yet here you are - just got your brains fucked out and now you’re on your knees for me.”
As if to punctuate and prove his statement, you lean forward and swallow him whole, your cheeks hollowing to create a tantalizing amount of suction,
“Oh mother of - fuck!” Eddie whispers harshly. You bob up and down on his cock without preamble. You could tell how close he was from the near steady stream of pre-cum that leaked from his tip.
Your hands knead into his thighs as you take him deeper and deeper, being careful not to gag too loudly when his spongey head hits the back of your throat.
“Fuck, Princess. That’s…oh god that’s…”
He’s rendered even more speechless when you grab his hand and place it on the back of your head, pressing down to indicate that you’d like him to control your movements. Something you’d never done with previous lovers. Only Eddie.
Eddie curses under his breath and blinks rapidly before doing as you’ve asked him to do - guiding you up and down on his cock by his grip on the back of your head. His cock pushes deep into your throat and Eddie’s eyes roll back into his skull.
“Jesus H. Christ you’re such a bad girl, letting me do this right now. Such a bad fucking girl.” He’s rambling at this point and you love it. You snake a hand between your thighs and begin playing with your clit as he fucks your throat. Overwhelmed by the feeling of him using you and the nature of his words.
When he lets you pull back to finally breath, you choke and sputter before speaking up, voice wrecked.
“Like being a bad girl for you, Eds,” you moan against his balls, jerking his spit and slick soaked cock with your hand. Eddie’s sure he won’t survive this and closes his eyes against the intense pleasure conjured up by the image of you before him.
“God, you get so messy for me, Princess. You know I love that.” You nod frantically and that’s when he notices your other hand has disappeared between your legs, touching yourself. He bites his lip to smother his groan. “Were you really touching yourself while choking on my dick, baby?”
You nod again with wide, doe eyes.
“I wanna cum again,” you say simply, brow knitting together from the way you toy with your clit feverishly. “But I want you to cum, too.”
“Baby girl, you keep looking at me and touching me like that, I’m gonna cum any second.”
Your breath speeds up and so does your finger on your clit. Your fist moves faster up and down his cock and you know he’s close, so you scootch up even closer between his spread thighs.
“Where d’you wanna cum, Eddie?” you ask. “My face? My tongue? My tits?” You model each option for him, turning your head to offer your cheek, sticking out your tongue, and shimmying your naked chest to make your breasts bounce.
“Oh shit oh shit…” Is all Eddie can say as his eyes zero in on your tits. His abdomen seizes and you deliver a handful more expert tugs, angling his cock towards your chest just in time. His white cum paints your tits just as your own second orgasm takes over, making your spasm a bit and concave into yourself.
It’s another minute or two before either of you move, your hand finally stilling and letting go of his softening cock. Eddie slumps back against the chair and rubs his eyes harshly with the heels of his hands before gazing back down at your messy figure.
“Jesus fucking Christ, Princess…” he mutters low. You simply grin at him, gathering the cum on your tits and placing it in your mouth with a happy hum.
“Thanks for my present, Eddie,” you say in a lilting voice and Eddie rolls his eyes at you, reaching down to haul you up off the floor and into his lap.
“If anyone in your family heard that and decides they don’t like me because someone couldn’t keep it in her pants…” he grumbles the threat half heartedly, contradicting his own tone by kissing your throat. Right on the fresh bruise that you will definitely need to cover with a turtleneck tomorrow. You giggle and cling to him.
“Nobody heard it. And besides, isn’t keeping me happy the most important thing?” you ask cheekily. Eddie laughs, a little closer to full volume this time, and crushes you to his chest.
“You happy, Princess?” he asks a beat later. Despite the volume of his laugh, the question comes out quieter. As if he’s not 100% certain what your answer will be. You pull back and take his face in your hands so you can imbue your response with all the strength you can muster after being fucked so good.
“I’m absurdly happy, Eddie Munson. And you better be, too, because I don’t plan on giving this up any time soon.”
He kisses you stupid in response, finally deciding the squeaky bed will have to do and hauling you over to start getting ready for sleep.
~*~
The next morning over coffee, eggs, and toast you get to witness yet again just how much your boyfriend has charmed your family and friends. They hang on his every word, laugh at his jokes, and ask him questions. And you know they aren’t just being nice, because they’ve never been this nice to any guy you’ve brought home before.
Watching Eddie regale some of your cousins with a particularly silly story from his latest small town tour, the sun hits him just right as it filters through the kitchen window. He’s back lit, haloing his hair and making him look particularly handsome. Your heart swells and you can’t take the yearning adoration that fills you to the brim.
To offset the achingly sweet emotions swirling within you, you have to do something silly. When Eddie looks at you over someone’s shoulder, you mouth “you’re fucking hot” at him and his face lights up in a massive grin, shaking his head. He mouths back -
“You’re bad.”
~*~
Tiny taglist: @millenialcatlady @theoncrayjoy @sacklerscumrag @cowboy-kylo @boomhauer @sparks363 @copycatkillerfics @boostilinski @wroteclassicaly @eddiesprincess86 @bambigoth-sims @chaoschaoswriting @lassie-bird @softpshycopath @katsukis1wife @spookyreidd
#Eddie munson smut#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x fem!reader#Eddie munson x you#Eddie munson fanfic#stranger things smut
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and if you let me;; jjk
pairing: non idol!coworker jungkook x reader
word count: 1.9k
rating: teens & up!
genre: romance & fluff, cheesy confession, jungkook is a nervous guy in luv, also is silly, dorky, sweet, etc. (all the adjectives!)
summary: it was your last day at work and jungkook, who has a big fat crush on you, throws a going away party before you go.
notes: there's hardly any plot lmao it's just a hit of dopamine/feels i guess HAHAHAH :) i love him so much and my feelings are at an all-time high with the new gcf that came out!!
this is for nei (@melancholy-of-nadia)!!! luv u!!
© jungkook97 2023. do not repost or modify. please ask for permission to translate.
Jungkook was annoyed. Very annoyed.
As you howled in laughter at Hoseok’s antics, Jeon Jungkook was in his little corner, crossing his arms and shaking his head.
It wasn’t that he was jealous. In fact, Jungkook was pretty confident and had somewhat normal self-esteem levels, but he felt like he was running out of time.
Running out of time for what, you ask? Confessing his love to you.
It was an open secret on the office floor that Jungkook had the biggest and loudest crush on you, making it real clear to all the guys in the office that you were the love of his life (on the clock, anyway). He liked people who were great at their jobs, and you were, to say the least, great at it. As your new boss and your guys’ boss fought for dominance to get you as an employee, it was clear that you were irreplaceable in the workplace, and that somehow made you even sexier to Jungkook.
At first, it was all a physical thing. You were a looker with brains and a dry humor that Jungkook appreciated in a workplace filled with kiss-assers. It was easy to flirt with you, and it seemed like you were 110% flirting back, which, a few months down the road, got Jungkook to freak out.
Surely, it was one thing to flirt with coworkers nonchalantly and another to deliberately be a boy loser about it. He was down bad at the 3-month mark and found himself counting the days when you would return to your cubicle, which conveniently was next to his.
Every day, he swung by your desk trying to be smooth, only to trip up somehow. Whether it be the intonation of his voice or him tripping over his own feet, he would kick himself silly mentally before lamenting to his best friend and work confidant, Kim Namjoon at the water cooler hours later.
“I swear I cannot walk around her!” Jungkook would sigh loudly, swirling his coffee stirrer as Namjoon chuckled, leaning against the counter before patting his coworker on the shoulder.
“It’s okay, dude. I’m sure she doesn’t even notice it like you do,” Namjoon would reassure him even though he knew you would eventually find out (you would of course, but unaware how deep Jungkook’s love for you was).
A year would swing by until you finally broke the news to the office that you would be leaving for another job with higher pay, and it felt like Jungkook’s world came crashing down. How could he continue working at this job if you weren’t next to him, giggling at his stupid jokes and his stupid short haircut that he specifically cut to make himself look even hotter for you? How could he possibly get through several rounds of meetings if you two weren’t playing tic-tac-toe on the memo pad the two of you would share? Or the times when Jungkook would go out of his way to the coffee shop to get your usual honey oatmilk latte from Urth Caffé? Or the time Jungkook would time his lunches so he could sit with you for the whole hour?
And so, Jungkook devised a plan to break the “news” that he was in love with you, hoping that you would feel the same way. He orchestrated the going away party first, going to a KBBQ spot with your closest coworkers before doing karaoke with drinks. Because how else was Jungkook going to relax around you?
Jungkook could feel his heart thumping wildly in his chest as you giggled at his innocent joke about Hoseok’s dance moves as your delicate head leaned against his wide shoulders. His stomach lurched forward as he coughed to cover his nervousness up, pouring yet another glass of soju for the two of you. You gladly took it, clinking the glass against his before taking a swig, and swallowing the alcoholic contents as you clung into Jungkook for the next hour.
Jungkook was elated of course, but he didn’t wanna give much away, closing his lips together as he thumped his fingers against the table, encouraging your former coworkers to drink more.
An hour passed and you were blasted, still hollering and hooting for the dancers, Hoseok and Jimin, to continue as karaoke night came at a fever pitch. At this point, you and Jungkook were inseparable, and he has made major moves to the level of your comfort: 1) putting his arm behind you and 2) crossing his legs so he could tap his feet against yours.
As you hummed quietly to yourself, you shivered at the cold air coming through the AC. Jungkook saw and immediately grabbed his leather jacket, putting it around you.
You thanked him, leaning against his chest as the two of you cuddled. Jungkook’s heart skipped a beat as he flushed red, again covering his flustered self with a cough.
“Are you getting sick?” you inquired, looking up at Jungkook with a pout. His eyes twinkled at this point as you cutely and drunkenly put your hand up to his forehead, trying to feel his temperature. It was going up all right, and Jungkook turned even redder than the tomatoes in the ramyeon in front of you two.
“Uh,” was all Jungkook could say, stuttering his way into a lame excuse. “The ramyeon is a bit too spicy that’s all, haha.”
He did his best to chuckle sexily as you sighed, frowning.
“Should I have asked for it to be mild?” you inquired, grabbing the menu from the table. “If I had known you didn’t like spice, I would’ve ordered it.”
“Oh no, i-it’s okay!” Jungkook hastily replied, putting the menu down. He was freaking out, and a few of the boys were starting to notice the two of you being rather cozy.
“Man, I have never seen Jungkook look so happy in my entire life,” Taehyung teased, snorting into his beer and pointing at the both of you.
Jungkook frowned, still beet red.
“W-what are you talking about?!” he fired back at Taehyung. All the second youngest in the office did was shrugged, smirking.
“Oh, now you’re playing stupid,” Taehyung drunkenly laughed, leaning against you as he whispered something in your ear.
Jungkook’s stomach bubbled in nervousness while Taehyung chuckled after saying his piece which made you giggle a bit.
“Yeah, he can be obtuse sometimes,” you replied, glancing back at Jungkook. He flushed again, his stomach in knots. Did you know? Were you playing with him?
As the night progressed, you began acting more and more wild, making Jungkook laugh uproariously at your behavior. Seeing you loose made him happy and glad that he planned the goodbye party in the first place. He clapped and cheered for you as you attempted badly to sing Whitney Houston’s “I’ll Always Love You”. Even if you were off-key, he still found it endearing that you even attempted.
Your unabashed confidence was shining through, and something ignited within Jungkook. It was then when he realized how much he liked you and seeing this side of you made him want you even more. The desire to be even closer than you two already were, and the desire to be intimate was growing inside Jungkook’s already big and kind heart, and he wanted to do something more.
It wasn’t too late when everyone began to go home, leaving the two of you alone. You had Uber’d your way to the noraebang so Jungkook offered naturally to take you home after sobering up.
As the two of you walked to the car, you instinctively but a bit impulsively wrapped your arm around his. His stomach lurched forward as his heart beat unbelievably fast, making him cough out of nervousness.
“You okay?” you asked worryingly, slurring a bit of your words. Jungkook was a bit concerned for you as he gripped your arm tighter around his bicep, leaning against you.
“I am,” he hummed lightly, opening his Mercedes GT door for you before guiding you in. “Are you okay though? You had a lot to drink.”
He strapped you in with the seatbelt as you smiled warmly. At this point, you two were really close to each other, feeling each other’s warm breaths as Jungkook’s big eyes stared into yours. He lamented quietly that you weren’t entirely there, wishing you were entirely sober so he could just kiss you right then and there. Your red warm lips were calling to him, and he wanted to kiss you so fucking bad, but only if you let him.
God, you’re so beautiful right now, he thought.
“What?” you laughed softly as he snapped out of it.
“N-nothing.”
Clearing his throat for the 1529458th time, he pulled away from your warmth and back into the winter air. Sliding his hands together to keep warm, he sprinted to the driver’s side of the car, sliding in before turning the engine on. The hot air swirled through the cabin as he turned the lights on and navigation took you home.
Not much was said during the ride to your house. Surely, he didn’t want to interrupt you slowly dozing off, mumbling to yourself as your hand laid on the center console. Jungkook’s hand was firmly on the shift gear but it achingly wanted to be there as well, holding your hand. He wanted to warm you up so badly, just like how he did it all night with you.
There must have been real chemistry between you two up until this point, Jungkook thought. There was no way all of this was platonic or you had been leading him on. All the flirty exchanges you two had for the past year started replaying in Jungkook’s mind like a broken video tape, replaying over and over until he couldn’t take it anymore.
He had to tell you. He had to confess.
-
As the car came to a stop and turned off, he went over to your side to open the door again. You woke up to the brisk cold air hitting your face as you were startled awake. Jungkook’s dark silhouette encapsulated you as you pulled out of the car, only to slip from the ice below and into Jungkook’s arms.
“Fuck!” you exclaimed as he caught you immediately into his embrace. His firm, yet warm body was pressed up against your own as you giggled drunkenly, trying to maintain your balance. “God, I’m just all over you tonight huh, Jeon?”
You could feel his heavy breaths on you as you looked up. He was already staring down at you with a soft smile, his cheeks pink.
You wondered if he was going to keep hiding it from you. You knew for quite some time that Jungkook liked you a bit too much, and even in your drunken state, you wanted to tell him it was okay to lean in for a kiss. You liked him too, and you wanted him to be yours.
Under the dim streetlight, he ever so slowly leaned in, closing the gap between you two. His eyes were pensive, thinking a bit too hard on this, but you had already made up your mind.
Kiss me, Jungkook.
“If you let me,” he whispered right before your lips touched his.
You pulled him in, kissing him. His eyes closed immediately as he took control, squeezing you tightly as you two softly kissed each other, keeping warm.
Snow was falling lightly on the both of you as your lips slowly made a grin when the two of you parted.
“Always, Jungkook.”
#jungkook#jungkook x reader#jungkook scenarios#jungkook fic#writing#mine#I WAS INSPIRED BY THE GCF LEAVE ME ALONE#short and sweet like jungkook's haircut in the gcf <3#oh i'm in love with the man so bad it's not even funny :/#i barely edited this so hfdklshg;hg#kissing jungkook in the snow o my god i'm so romantic
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hi, jelly 💕 bee here!
about the Miguel blurbs, how about this: Migs has a crush on reader, but he tries to ignore his feelings and treats her like he would anyone else. but when reader gets stood up on a date, Miguel crumbles and comforts her.
it can be on Spider-Verse or any other au you prefere.
sending you lots of love!
Bee my lauvv!! Ty for the request!!! 🖤🖤🖤I also made it so you have a crush on Miguel too hehe. Here ya go!!
Stood up
Miguel O'Hara x Fem Spider!Reader
Word Count: 1.8k
CW: ANGST, FLUFF, BETRAYAL, PINING. MIGUEL AVOIDING FEELINGS, BIT SUGGESTIVE, MINORS DNI
----
Your boss is a hard egg to crack. You do your best to impress him. Going the extra mile, setting an example to your fellow spiders, even fine with bearing the label of boring co-worker once in a while when you gracefully shut down the banter between you, Hobie, Pav, Gwen, Margo, and Miles that has gone on a little too long. Reminding everyone to stay on task.
You do it for him after all. You pity the guy, just wanting to be the reason he has one less frown line and one less grey streak in his hair.
Also the fact that he's really handsome and has just about every quality you admire in a person. But that's besides the point.
He keeps the same stoic look on his face, almost like he's tired of you. After a while, you get the picture, backing off little by little. Doing your best to put all your efforts into being the best Spidey you can for your Earth. Putting your handsome boss out of your mind.
For now.
----
Of course he notices. He's not a professional at social cues but come on, you make it so obvious. How you wait up for him, the way you stop what you're doing just to turn your attention to him not even a second after he enters a room. You must have memorized his footfalls coming from a mile away, and not just because of your Spidey senses.
But the worst part is the fact that he not only notices. He also appreciates it more than you know. And what you don't know is he feels the same if not more strongly about you than you could ever imagine.
Shock.
Thank God that spiders aren't mind readers, a deep blush painting his face at the thought of you accessing the diary of cringe that was his brain that housed the obsessive and love sick thoughts he had about you.
You were everything Spider-Woman (or let's be honest, more like his dream employee) should be. Composed, focused, thorough, calculated, patient, and PUNCTUAL. (arguably his favorite quality out of all of them)
But one thing you won't get out of him is any blaring indication that this silly little crush exists. No, there's a multiverse worth saving that is permanently at the risk of imploding at a moment's notice, all because a Vulture decided to have a heyday on the beach in some aquatic dimension because he's never seen the ocean before.
No, he needs to keep it all business. Repeating that mantra in his head over and over again every time you come walking in with that glow on your face that he could just pluck effortlessly out of a crowd of many.
She's just like everyone else. She's just like everyone else.
But damnit when you showed him that gorgeous smile.
Those deep eyes of yours. Bottomless.
Sucking him in like the holes in the multiverse he dedicated his entire life to patching.
And when you spoke, it was like you had his full attention. Putting that advanced hearing to good use as he tuned out the rest to hone in on what enriching thing you had to say next, no matter how mundane it was. Clutching it like he was a seagull and you were a loaf of bread shredding crumbs.
---
To stifle the burning sting of rejection, you found your attention being taken by another, golden haired Spider-Man, Ben Reilly.
He'd tell jokes occasionally, smirking when you returned with equal friendly fire, indulging you with letting you try out his protein shakes and spotting you at the gym, jaw falling open with surprise and a growing attraction when you continuously reset your PR.
You thought you weren't misreading the signs he was giving you. He wasn't shying away from your touch. In fact, he was the one who couldn't keep his hands off of you. Feeling yourself get warm in tingly places when his hand lingered on the small of your back.
When you were eating the famous Miguel burgers in the cafeteria and he used his thumb to get a stain of ketchup off your lips, definitely making a point to keep those electric blues on you as he slowly brought the ketchup stained finger to his own mouth, licking it up.
But I guess you did.
Even though he was the one that pulled you into the closet, stealing breathy moans from your lungs as you kissed him like he was your only source of oxygen.
Even if he did tell you he's always been obsessed with you.
Even if he did send you memes and songs that reminded him of you.
Even if he did send you "Goodnight, beautiful." every night before he fell asleep.
And you sat there on the picnic blanket waiting with enough food for two people for the date HE asked you out on only to leave you hanging instead, wondering where he was all afternoon.
You made the mistake of calling his watch, only for a mystery woman's voice mixed with his, and sinful sounds to come out of it.
You hung up with tears stinging your vision.
No matter how perfect you tried to be or how diligent you were, how interesting or funny you thought you could be, how pretty you thought you looked, somehow every time you decided to lower your guard just a little bit, life swiftly humbled you and made you realize you should have never taken it down.
You weren't good enough for Miguel and you weren't good enough for Ben. You're a silly girl who projects her unrealistic standards onto things that just don't happen in real life.
Or maybe they just don't happen for you.
-----
Miguel is checking on the baby ducklings by the pond at the Spider Society HQ gardens when he hear what sounds like soft crying coming from a little spot tucked between some trees. Curious, he follows it until he finds you down on your luck, stood up by a guy who wasn't worth your time.
This tough guy act he had put up crumbles instantly when he sees tears flowing down your cheeks for the first time. There was no reason a lovely woman like you, who wouldn't hurt a fly, who worked her ass off, who was kind to others,
who inhabited every single thought he had and kept him awake at night, should be crying like that.
"You okay...?" He asks, ducking underneath a branch, sitting on the blanket with his feet off to the side so he doesn't spread any dirt on it.
"Heh...no..." you answer weakly, occupying your hands by opening a canned Arnold Palmer and popping a cracker covered in the homemade spinach artichoke dip into your mouth.
"¿Porqué?" (Why?) He leans forward on his elbows, patient cardinals peering at you waiting for your response.
So, you explain to him how you started falling for this guy and he sent you all these signs that said he was falling for you too, only for the road to lead to a dead end and a broken down car of disappointment, catching him standing you up to go mess around with some other girl instead.
Miguel silently seethes on your behalf, not loving hearing how wrapped around this guy's finger you were but happy to sit and listen if that's what you needed to feel better.
When you tell him it was Ben, he already has a little something planned for him, hoping that HR won't catch up to him for switching Ben's assignment to Earth-67. (A dimension with a notoriously annoying reputation among spider society with ungrateful and sassy inhabitants. That should do the trick.)
Besides he's the boss. Rules can bend if he wants them to. And he normally would never do this but he'd just about do anything for you.
".....I even made club sandwiches." You sigh at the end of your rant, gesturing to the stacked sandwiches in their matching containers with cute little puns written on them.
Miguel feels his mouth salivate at the buffet you got there. But that was the least of his concerns. He's here to cheer you up, not steal your food.
But, I mean, there's no way you can eat all of this by yourself, right?
His stomach makes a lengthy announcement to both of you that he hasn't eaten in 12 hours, much to his embarrassment.
With a smile, you shyly ask him if he wants to help you out here, since you'd hate for all this food to go to waste.
That's what lead to you both munching happily, the sun sinking lower in the sky but you both paid no mind, thoroughly enjoying the other's company.
That old little crush of yours started to set alight once again while his just fanned into an all out wildfire. Never guessing that actually spending some time alone together would go so well or that you'd wind up speaking like you've known each other for years.
"What is the perfect job for a spider?" He asks.
"Mmm, I give up."
"A web developer."
"Hah...uh...yeah... that one's honestly terrible." You shake your head, realizing your sense of humor really has gone downhill in recent years if that's the best one you could find.
He rolls up the sticky note, tossing it into the garbage bag of shame. "Total squander of his talents if you ask me."
Your turn, "Why was the spider so smart?" You barely wait five seconds before you answer your own joke.
"He spends all his time on the world wide web!"
"Lies." Miguel says with a chomp of his sandwich.
"What do you mean?!"
"Utter lies. I know anyone who spends more than an hour online daily is not the brightest." He smirks as he pops another spinach artichoke dipped chip in his mouth.
"Coming from the guy with over 6 surveillance monitors he watches every day from 9-5!"
"I work from 5-8 but that's besides the point."
You suddenly feel brave, after spending over two hours letting him cheer you up, deciding to put your comfort with him to the test.
"Well, you think you could shave off a couple hours for me so we can do this again next week?"
He looks at you like you're the answer to his prayers.
Yes, yes absolutely he could.
---
And so it became weekly. Then it became daily. Until you no longer needed a picnic basket.
Both sandwiches in complimenting lunch bags side by side in your shared refrigerator of your shared home together.
He smiles down at you while you sleep, knowing he slipped you an extra dessert in yours that he thinks you'll really like, closing his eyes to savor the final 3 minutes you have side by side before you both need to get up and shower for work.
----
🫶🏽
@1-900-venusluvs @thatone-writer
#miguel o'hara#miguel o'hara x reader#atsv miguel#miguel x reader#miguel atsv#miguel ohara#miguel o'hara imagine#miguel o'hara x you#miguel o'hara fluff#miguel o'hara x fem!reader#miguel ohara x you#miguel ohara x reader#miguel ohara fluff#spiderman 2099 x you#spiderman 2099 x reader#miguel x you
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.
Oh my God.
I had a very funny and slightly strange idea...
Imagine that there is mutual sympathy between the reader and Jax. In short, Jax has crush on reader, but the reader... don’t know it.(or just don’t see it)
So, a new person appears in the circus. It doesn't matter who it is, what it is, what their name is, etc.
So, the newcomer and the reader became very close friends. I mean, sleeping in the same room, hugging, holding hands...(I mean friends, no lovers)
Look, I just want to see Jax get jealous, okay...?
Thank you🫶❤️
Jealous! Jax (Romantic) + Pomni (Platonic) / Gn! Reader
Jax (romantic), Pomni (platonic) / Gn! Reader
A/n: Back on the grind we go!! Hell YEAH!! I actually like how this turned out, hope you like it!!
REQUESTS FOR TADC ARE OPEN!!!
Summary: Jax may or may not have a crush on you and be very much jealous of Pomni being your close friend.
Words: 1448
Request: yup!
There was always a spark between you and Jax, surprising? Absolutely.
The thought that this deranged, unhinged, smooth rabbit man could ever feel such complex emotion as love was insane, at least to everyone except for you.
Sure he has some bad qualities, but that’s normal. (Get a grip bro this man is beyond saving /j)
He was here once you got into the circus, and that first time you met, both of you hit it off great! He was always smug and funny, but nothing too overboard. Of course everyone realized right off the bat, and Ragatha just came to you and was like: “How did you do it?”
You were confused, Jax was always like that! A bit silly, and very charismatic.
And so this feeling bloomed, but somewhere where none could see, not even you. You liked him a lot, surely, but he wasn’t the type to fall for a person, he was so sure of himself, you knew there was no chance of him swooning over someone, not like it’s a bad thing, but he wasn’t a type of person to beg for affection if it was to be taken away.
Or so you thought.
You let your crush take a backseat in this h#!! of a ride. But meanwhile, to Jax’s absolute demise and confusion, he found himself staring a bit too long, or laughing a bit too loudly at your jokes. He fell, definitely not first, but most definitely harder.
The thought process was quite simple really: “Absolutely no f*@/!n# way.”
But oh well, he’s 100 % the type of guy to try to impress you every chance he gets, even at the expense of others.
Not like he cares about others though.
What you might not realize is how under all that narcissistic and overall not the best person is someone who is like, very touch starved.
He would die to even hold hands, but just with you.
That pisses him off slightly, he never had such problems, and it’s not looking good.
He has a way with words, but not a way with emotions. That concept is foreign and very, unsettlingly new to him.
Then a newcomer comes around, a silly little jester – Pomni! Both of you become friends really fast, because unlike Jax, you’re actually one of two best comforters in the Digital Circus, the first-best being Ragatha.
That’s why Pomni always sticks with either you or Ragatha.
At first it wasn’t that much of a problem – You were good at putting others at ease – Jax knew that, and with time, he also knew that Pomni hated physical touch.
So when he saw you two hugging or anything like that? My man is pissed.
And it became an actual, apparent problem. Because the smaller jester stuck to you like glue, soon she was even sleeping with you in your room: “Because hers was too stuffy.” Yeah, he wasn’t buying that. (It was the truth tho lmao)
And when Caine brought it up one time, asking you and Pomni if you were dating?? Fuming, you could really see the smoke coming out of his ears.
Of course both of you quickly shut that down, saying that no, you weren’t dating, and were actually far from it.
Part of him wanted to accept that, why did he even care? The other part told him to fuck up Pomni’s mind to the point of abstraction, one sentence could destroy her so why not?
It wasn’t hard to catch on with his emotions, you saw him pull pranks which were just getting more and more cruel. And there was no way you could let that slide.
Especially since Pomni was coming to you for advice on love herself, since she had an eye on one, quite pretty ragdoll here in the circus.
– Good thing this is just a dream, right Pomni? – Jax elbowed the smaller jester, leaning over her, he watched the product of his words show off in the girl’s eyes, as her pupils became dark and disorganized scribbles. Both of them stood somewhere near your room, everything happening because Jax saw Pomni walking to yours again. And he wasn’t having that, so he decided to mess with the jester who was stealing your attention lately.
Pomni stayed silent, making Jax snicker lightly, but something interrupted this $h!t show from going on further, light footsteps. The taller man turned around just to see you coming down the hallway, his smile widened. You focused your eyes on two figures before you. – Jax, Pomni! – You smiled at Jax, making him look away for just a second, before you turned to Pomni, smile turning into a frown. – Pomni?
Finally stopping you looked at your friend who was visibly not doing so great. You spoke up again. – Hey Pomni, are you doing okay..? – The jester shook her head, breaking out of the trance, she looked at you, her pupils dilated. – What? Uh, yeah, you know what, I’m going to go. – She said quickly, before awkwardly speeding away from you two.
You sighed and looked at Jax, who was smugly looking at you. – What did you tell her this time Jax? – You questioned tiredly, anticipating any reasonable response from the rabbit. He laughed.
– Oh nothing much you know, just typical stuff. – His grin widened.
– Jax. – You looked at him sternly, at times like this you wondered why you even liked him that much. That, seemingly brought him back to earth for a second. – Maybe something about this being a dream.. you know, just typical stuff.
You knew how Pomni was, h#!! she told you herself. Poor little thing, she was battling so many emotions right now, especially since she fell for one of the circus members, just like you – which you could relate to. And know you were looking at him, wondering why?
Looking at him, you mentioned for the rabbit to follow you. Finally, as both of you stepped into your room, you shut the door behind you and turned to him. – Jax, what’s up your @$$ lately? – You asked, mad.
Well that was anything else he expected from you, seems like you caught on to what he was doing, he sighed still smiling smugly. – What do you mean?
– You know what I mean. – You said, crossing your arms on your chest, looking up at him.
– Not a single clue! – He played along, to a one sided game. You weren’t having that.
And then out of all things you could’ve done, you managed to surprise him, catching his breath in his throat, why? Because out of all things you attacked the weakest part of him – His crippling touch starvation – You caught one of the straps to his overalls and pulled him down so you and the rabbit were on the same eye-level, faces dangerously close to each other. And as he felt your touch on his body, he felt something clicking in his at the moment thoughtless brain.
But as soon as the touch came, it was gone, and he felt it linger long after you left the room, leaving him staring dumbfounded at one spot in front of him for far longer than what was deemed normal.
And now he was left with two options, mess with your new friend and get all this newfound and surprisingly great but still negative attention, or apologize and somehow get you to touch him again.
As he was leaving, walking along the halls towards his room to think, he saw Pomni down the hallway, she saw him too. She looked confused, caught up in this tricky territory called love, just like him.
But this time, he decided to leave the jester be, which brought him one step closer to his new habit of longing for you and your touch.
Did he apologize to you? Yeah, if you can call it that. It was a typical, Jax fashioned, half–@$$ed apology, but only because his ego didn’t let him go as far as saying an actual sorry.
But he did change! Well, kind of. He was less obnoxious towards Pomni, and let her adjust to this new hellish life she was forcefully pulled into.
After noticing how the jester’s eyes literally turned to hearts when she looked at Ragatha, and when he overheard you giving love advice to her, he definitely gave up on making her abstract out of pure jealousy.
Instead, making it his goal to get you to touch him in any way, yes, he’s that desperate.
But that made you just more in love, he was actually (a little tiny bit) nice!!
Let’s just hope no new people come around, because jealous Jax is literally a walking death threat.
#requests open#request#please request#tadc pomni#x reader#pomni#ragatha#tadc jax#jax#the amazing digital circus jax#caine#the amazing digital circus#tadc#jax x reader#tadc x reader#tadc jax x reader
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